


Seals and a Zebra

by ChiaraD



Category: SEAL Team (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:21:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 34
Words: 84,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25931278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChiaraD/pseuds/ChiaraD
Summary: Bravo Team gets called to a mission to save kidnapped women out in the open ocean. The brave actions of one woman sends them on a journey halfway around the world and back, as well as inside themselves to examine who they are and how they can become even better heroes and men.The story takes place at the end of the 3rd season, but after they make it home from deployment.
Comments: 82
Kudos: 73





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please heed the warnings. The rape scene is depicted from a distance without graphic detail and is important to the story. I purposefully ensure that most of those who do awful things are brought to justice or killed by the team.
> 
> This story has taken me 3 months to write and has undergone multiple edits as well as going far beyond what I originally intended. It’s already complete, but I’ll be posting it a little at a time. Please leave constructive feedback, as I have more stories I’m working on and would like to know what parts people enjoy or don’t enjoy.
> 
> Also, I dropped a few Easter eggs into the story. If you spot them let me know what you think they are about. Wondering how many will recognize them.

Angry car horns fill the air as a taxi cuts off several vehicles to get closer to the front doors of Georgetown University Hospital in Washington, D.C. As the driver emerges and sneers in return, a young woman using a cane steps out of the automatic doors. The crisp air chills slightly as a gust of wind swings around the curve of the building’s glass to ruffle her short, light brown hair and blow into her unzipped lightweight jacket. Mid-October is creeping into the landscape and even though the afternoon sun is shining, a powerful icy blast is threatening to remove the last lingering memories of the last gasps of summer heat. She cautiously approaches the taxi as she tries to control the large laptop bag slung across her body so it doesn’t knock her off her feet or bump the large-base cane in her hand.

“Are you here for Cymbre Watters?” Her voice is strained yet quiet, matching the muted palate of her paled skin and tired steel blue-grey eyes. Her body is slumped; exhaustion echoes through her rumpled gray sweats and bright blue sweater. One look shows she hasn’t put much effort into how she looks, with her face clean of makeup and her clothing free of any style; but, based on the braces wrapped tightly around multiple joints and unmistakable under her clothes there’s probably good reason for it. Yet there’s a tiny spark of hope in her eyes, as the appointment she just stepped from had been better than most.

“Yes. Where are you going, again?” The cab driver’s smile is more leering than friendly, but his polo shirt and khaki pants are tidy. His dark hair and tan skin evidence that he’s likely originally from somewhere closer to the equator, but his English is neat and without a heavy accent as he holds his hands out to take her bag from her. “Let me help you with that.”

“I’m heading to Reagan Airport. I’ve got a flight back home in a few hours.” She gratefully hands him her bag and steps up to the door he holds open for her. “Thank you,” she says as she drops into the seat with all the grace of a toddler on ice skates, then carefully maneuvers her legs into the small floor space available. As she starts to pull her cane inside, he grabs it from her. “I can put those back here with me,” she says warmly.

He leans inside and his tone changes dramatically as he growls low, “Keep your damn mouth shut and maybe you’ll make that flight back home, someday.” He slams the door harshly, almost catching her hand, before throwing her belongings back towards the building and running around the cab to get inside. She begins to scream for help, slamming on the door, but it’s locked and she can’t get out. Her palms slap loudly on the windows as she screams again, her terrorized shrieks harmonizing with the squealing tires as the cab peels down the street, takes a few fast turns, and gets lost in back streets and blind alleys where no one will pay attention to her pleas for help.

*****

It’s just after 0100 hours when Master Chief Jason Hayes finishes up a late night workout. He isn’t ready to head back to his dreary and lonely apartment any more than he’s in the mood to get drunk and stupid with some of his Bravo teammates. There’s an odd charge in the atmosphere tonight, but it’s not just from the cold front that’s due to pass through by morning; it’s leaving him curious and cautious. He takes a quick shower and throws on his civvies then heads to Bravo Team’s cages. Soon he’s going to have no more excuses to keep him from heading home to get a few hours of sleep. He pulls his camo ball cap over his damp hair, his fingers briefly brushing against the embroidered “ice man” nickname under the American flag that sits on his forehead like a brand, and turns to leave his equipment cage just as his phone starts to ring. A frown falls over his face as he sees it’s his daughter, Emma, a new college freshman 350 miles away in New York City.

“Hey Emma, everything okay?” It’s not normal for his daughter to call him in the middle of the night, especially now that she’s in college and he can’t just come running across town.

“Dad?” Emma sniffles then lightly clears her throat, obviously trying to calm her voice.

Jason’s hair stands on end as he pauses just inside the door of his cage. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Are you okay?”

“Something happened…” Emma’s voice trails off as she pulls the phone away from her ear and sniffles again. It worries Jason even more that she’s clearly trying to keep herself calm. “I, um…” she pauses again and Jason’s mind immediately goes to terrible places.

“Are you hurt? What’s wrong?” His voice goes up several decibels as he starts to pace back and forth just inside his cage.

Emma chokes back a small sob. “I went to a party tonight…”

Jason cuts her off. “Did someone hurt you? Do you need me up there?” Momentarily forgetting about everything else, all he can think right now is how he’s going to rip apart any stupid frat bastard who dared to touch his little girl and made her cry.

“No, dad,” Emma says quietly. She’s silent for a few seconds before she starts to speak again. “A guy from one of my classes invited me to this party and I’d hoped he wanted to get to know me. Instead he just wanted to be study partners.” Her voice flattens as she continues. “I’m upset because I don’t know what it is about men that none of you can be straightforward about what you want from a girl.”

Jason huffs loudly. “I’m not sure why you’re calling me about this in the middle of the night, but if he’s too chicken to ask you on a proper date then he’s not good enough for you, anyways.” He sits down in the camp chair inside his cage and puts his face in his hand. He loves his daughter and would do anything he could to protect her; unfortunately, since he’s been in the teams for her whole life he was never quite fully present and able to show her how she deserves to be loved. Late at night when he can’t control his thoughts and all the possible nightmare scenarios overtake him he wonders if having a father who was gone 300 days of the year has left his daughter without a measure with which to know the minimum amount of love and care she deserves from a man. Now that her mother is gone he wishes he could be the one she talks to about all the new boys she’s about to meet, but all he wants to do is keep his beautiful little girl locked away where nothing can ever hurt her.

“I really liked him, dad,” Emma says as she chokes back her tears. “I thought he liked me, too.” Jason misses the change in the tone of her voice as she struggles to temper and control her words; as much as she wants to tell him the truth, she can’t get herself to say it.

“I’m sure you do kiddo.” Jason sighs, calming down his need to protect his daughter. “If you really want to date him – and you know I’m going to choke on my own tongue for saying this – you could always ask him out. Isn’t that what your artsy school is supposed to be teaching you about feminism and empowerment and all that?”

“Sure, dad.” Emma’s voice still sounds sad and she’s not taking the bait to tease him about being an alpha male who just used the word “feminism.”

For a moment Jason wants to dig a little deeper to get her to smile and tease him back, but that would mean getting a little too far into the feelings category of conversation. Knowing he’s not capable of talking to his daughter about her feelings about boys, he tells her, “Why don’t you try to get a little sleep, then in the morning you can call Naima. I’m sure she’ll be happy to try to help explain what’s wrong with us men.” He smiles and chuckles briefly, but it ends quickly when she doesn’t laugh with him.

“Okay. I’ll do that.” Emma doesn’t sound too accepting of the advice and the sadness still lingers in her tone.

Suddenly Jason gets a message to his phone and he looks down to see an urgent page for the team to report to the DEVGRU team room for a mission. He frowns as he reads it then brightens slightly as he stands and straightens his spine. “Hey Emma: I need to go; Bravo just got called in.”

“You’re spinning up? Now?” Emma’s voice takes on a sharp edge, which isn’t normal for her. She’s accepted having her father leave at random times on missions and she’s used to it, even though she hates it more than ever lately. After her mother died, Emma was the one to push Jason back to his team; she did it more for him than for her and because seeing her father as a shell of himself was going to make her feel just as orphaned as if he never came home. This time it’s different; this time she really needs that dangerous hero part of her father to come out and protect her. She wants to say it; she wants to tell him; she needs him. She’s not yet ready to speak the words, though. Yet Jason ignores her curious tone, assuming it’s just her wanting more time to talk about some guy who isn’t returning her affections.

“We’ll talk in a few days, okay? I love you.” Jason’s mind is already pivoting from thinking about his daughter’s safety to curiously anticipating whatever mission they’re being sent on.

“I love you, daddy,” Emma says quietly. “Please be safe.”

Jason hangs up the phone and smiles, realizing he no longer needs to worry about keeping his mind busy and away from the intrusive thoughts that have been plaguing him lately. He’s about to head back into his natural state: control the 3 feet around him, work the problem, and salute the victory. Stir, rinse, and repeat. He sits back in his chair, waiting a few minutes for his brothers to converge back on base so they can walk into the DEVGRU team room together to be briefed on the mission.

*****

Operator First Class Clay Spenser wakes up to his phone sounding that tell-tale ring. It’s spin-up time. He rolls away from Rebecca, who wakes from the loss of his body heat draped around her back. He looks at his phone for a moment then sets it on his chest as he wipes his hand over his face. She lifts herself off his arm then turns to face him as she props herself up on her elbow. “Spin up,” he says quietly as he looks at her, waiting to see how she’s going to react. Stella, his ex, would get dour and scared like she was expecting him to never come home and Clay braces for a moment expecting to see that same face on Rebecca.

“Stay safe. I’ll see you, soon,” she says as she leans in to give him a quick peck on the lips while holding the sheet up around her bare chest.

For a split second he’s happily shocked, but then he’s reminded that Rebecca used to work for a spitfire of an ambassador and accepts his job is hard while knowing he and his team are well-trained to accomplish damn near anything. He sits up and leans forward to kiss her once more before sliding out of bed to grab the clothes he’d worn earlier that day, which had ended up tossed on the floor in the heat of the moment last night. Turning around he whispers, “Go back to sleep.” He smiles as she lies back down, letting the sheet drift lower on her body so he can get one last look at the reward he’ll be returning home to, then grabs his things and books it out the door.

*****

Senior Chief Raymond Perry quietly moves through the house after leaving Naima in bed, hoping to not wake their kids. He sits on the couch to pull his shoes on, but when he stands Jameelah is standing there waiting for him. “What are you doing awake, baby girl?”

“I heard your phone. Are you leaving, dad?” Her young body is full of tension and her face shows her worry. Ray can’t help but feel guilty. It hurts to know his daughter is worried about him because he chooses to do an incredibly dangerous, albeit incredibly important, job.

“Yes, sweetheart. I’ve got to go save someone.” He kneels down in front of her and pulls her small body to his for a hug. “I’m going to be home really soon.”

She steps back and holds his face in her small hands. “I love you, daddy. I need you to be super safe, okay?”

Ray pulls her in for another hug, trying to cover the emotion she’s evoking in him. “Always. I love you, Jameelah.” He picks her up and carries her back to her bed, laying her down and pulling the covers up over her. “Be good for mom.” He kisses her forehead and quickly leaves the room. After a quick peek in at his toddler, Junior, he needs to draw a little extra strength to grab his keys and leave the house. Soon he’s heading to base to meet up with the team.

*****

Operator First Class Sonny Quinn leans back against the wall, a pool cue in his hand. He, Operator First Class Trent Sawyer, and Operator First Class Brock Reynolds are at their local bar, shooting some pool while drinking beers and shooting the shit. Sonny has been eyeing up a pretty brunette at the bar, waiting to see if she’s spunky enough to light his fire for a night. Trent has been trying to bow out for the last ten minutes, wanting to get home, but Brock has kept pulling him back while expecting Sonny to ditch them for whatever woman has had his attention distracted for the last several turns. Just as Brock bends to line up a shot, their phones ring and sober them into reality. They look at their phones, set aside their cues and table their beers, and head right for the door. Lucky that Trent and Brock had taken it light on the alcohol as Sonny hops in with Brock, and with Trent following they head for the base.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My main original female character has Ehlers Danlos syndrome, a serious genetic condition that can affect nearly every part and system of the body. This is not a gratuitous depiction of a disabled person as inspiration porn; I’m using her to tell a small fraction of my own story as someone living disabled from EDS and numerous co-morbid conditions as a driving force for a far bigger story of bad things that do happen in the world and those who choose to fight back. People with EDS are referred to as medical zebras because in med school students are taught, “When you hear hooves think horse not zebra,” meaning they should look for the simple answer for a patient’s symptoms; however, in EDS we have countless symptoms that don’t make sense until they stop looking for the horse and see our stripes. EDS is a collagen (the glue of the cell) disorder that includes 14 types as of the 2017 nosology; the most common Hypermobile Type is estimated to affect around 10 million in the USA, 225 million worldwide, and about half the patients with EDS have this one type. Please take a few minutes to learn about EDS, because many people who have it aren’t diagnosed until they can no longer function normally, but with an incurable and progressive condition it’s important to learn about it while you can still slow the effects.
> 
> https://www.ehlers-danlos.com/
> 
> If you believe you might have EDS, please talk to your doctor ASAP and if they know little or nothing about it, as few doctors do, then please continue to seek out other doctors. I only figured out I had it because someone asked about my symptoms and said to me “Have you heard of EDS?” Even with four geneticists, including one who helped co-write half of the 2017 nosology, agreeing on my diagnosis many doctors still try to claim I can’t have it because it’s too rare. Yet even Hippocrates knew how unique and awesome we are when he wrote about the most common symptom, joint hypermobility, in 400 BC!
> 
> Hope you enjoy the story!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bravo team is called in late at night for a hostage rescue.

Cymbre shivers in the cold night air as the small boat she’s on chugs along at a decent clip, taking her and the other captives further and further from help. She’d been blindfolded and had her hands bound behind her with flexcuffs after being thrown in a large van with several other women. Speeding through the city they’d bounced around in the back without seatbelts on as they picked up more women then waited as the kidnappers went out hunting again. How quickly they had accomplished their goals was astonishing and how little they cared about their hostages well-being made her afraid of their intended fate. It couldn’t have been much more than an hour before they were flying down an interstate then off on some rutted out back road to god knows where. Every turn and bump in the road had sent echoes of pain through her body, and the dizziness had made her barely able to stay conscious. By the time the van had stopped she had been completely disoriented. The group was split in half and thrown harshly into the back of two small boats fitted with large outboard motors. They were forced into a pile and had thin blankets tossed over them, then what felt like a handful of large bungee cords snapped over top so they could barely move. Of course they needed some way to hide their victims otherwise anyone looking at the boat would likely be alarmed. To casual observers it would just look like they had strapped down their belongings for safety as they flew quickly over the water. There were at least two dozen people around when she was taken, so the cops must be looking for them; yet, several hours must have passed on the water and there’s been no indication of anyone trying to stop them. Her body is screaming in pain from laying in the same position for too long, snapping her out of her memories as her joints start to dislocate from the awkward pressure. She shifts slightly, trying to get the feeling back in her arms. When the kidnappers don’t notice her movements she shifts again, this time pushing her head closer into the pile.

“We’ll be okay. Just hang in there,” Cym whispers to the other women. She knows the words are hollow coming from her, but it’s what she needs to hear right now so she offers it anyways.

“My dad will send someone to save us,” a strained voice whispers back. “He’s a senator. The FBI or secret service will be sent.”

Cym rolls her eyes, wondering if this woman is purposefully bragging or just trying to convince herself that her daddy is going to save them before she’s beaten or raped or sold. Having spent most of her life depending only on herself, Cymbre isn’t convinced. If, and that’s a big if, they’re rescued it’s unlikely to happen any time soon. They’re going to have to fight to survive in one way or another. A few days without the meds that keep her body barely functional and it won’t matter if someone is coming to save them, so she’s going to have to act sooner rather than later. First step is to get her arms in front of her. She turns onto her side and curls into the fetal position. It takes a few minutes to make enough small movements to slide her hands down over her butt, around her feet, then up her legs. Her joint hypermobility and natural flexibility is an advantage as the only way to keep her hands behind her would’ve been to tie her elbows together. For all the awful that comes with having Ehlers Danlos syndrome, there are a few benefits. Slipping off her blindfold she shifts around finding a more comfortable position and waits to see what happens next.

*****

Bravo Team filters into the DEVGRU team room one at a time, their faces turning somber as they see the worried look on Ensign Lisa Davis’ face. Still wearing their civvies, they look more like a frat boy reunion than a group of highly-trained, lethal, special ops personnel. They quickly take their seats as Lieutenant Commander Eric Blackburn, dressed in his uniform, closes the door behind them.

“Sorry to call you in at 0200 on a Saturday morning, but we’ve got a developing situation right in our own backyard that may require our attention. I hope you took it easy on the beers earlier, because this situation could turn on a dime.” Lisa turns to the monitor next to her that’s mirroring her laptop, ignoring the confused faces watching her. She straightens her ACU blouse as she begins the briefing, using a clicker to change the images on the monitor as she speaks. “This afternoon about a dozen women were kidnapped outside of several hospitals in the Washington, D.C. area within a span of two hours. It was later determined that all the cabs that picked them up were fake and they specifically targeted women who appeared to be medically vulnerable. The police in the area tried to track them, but each cab was found dumped and on fire within ten minutes of the abductions in areas with spotty camera coverage. It took a few hours for local police to piece together that shortly after each cab was dumped the same 15 seat van drove though the area, though it couldn’t be proven that it picked up all of the occupants. Since the abductions happened over a span of just two hours we know this was a coordinated and well-planned effort. There’s no way that someone could’ve easily driven all around such a densely populated and highly monitored area so quickly during rush hour unless they had extensive planning and help to pull it off.”

Jason leans back in his chair. “Okay, this sounds pretty terrible, but what does this have to do with us? Neither the CIA nor DEVGRU operate within US borders as a general practice. Sounds more like the FBI and locals should be having their Friday night interrupted.” He looks at Blackburn, his face showing his frustration with a hint of disappointment. “If it’s only been a few hours there’s no way they could’ve gotten this many sick women far enough away to be in our purview. The airports around D.C. would’ve been put on high alert, so we know they’re not flying anywhere anytime soon.”

“Normally, that’s correct.” Lisa leans forward to drop the clicker as she taps a few keys on her computer to bring up a picture of a pretty blonde woman. “This is Amber Miller-Bates, Senator Miller’s only daughter. She’s 26, has been receiving medical care for an undisclosed condition in secret for the past few months, and she is one of the abducted women.”

After a quick knock the door suddenly opens and CIA interrogator Amanda Ellis joins the group. The team briefly acknowledges her then turn their attention back to the front as she joins Davis and Blackburn, standing quietly behind them.

“Gentlemen, I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that Senator Miller has the President’s ear and his campaign is well-funded by his ties to some of the biggest defense contractors in the world.” Blackburn walks closer to the front of the table and stands next to Davis, his arms crossed over his chest. “If he’s publicly embarrassed by having his beloved daughter kidnapped so easily in broad daylight and not quickly returned, not only will it affect his and his party’s votes for funding our operations, but he might do something drastic like calling in some favors and hiring defense contractors as mercenaries.”

Mandy steps up closer. “The CIA has been tracking some chatter over the last year about a large trafficking network that has been changing their focus. They’ve had problems selling the poor and unhealthy women that are easy targets in some other countries, as certain subsets of buyers want women who are accustomed to privilege and will put up more of a fight. Thus, the network is turning their focus to getting more women from the States in hopes of making that happen. We assume this is a sort of trial run, taking women who can’t easily fight back so if they have to kill them in the attempt of learning our tactics they won’t lose a lot of money. If they succeed these victims could be sold to anyone, to be utilized for any reason, just to make us look like fools to the world.” She’s missed giving briefings to the team and is grateful to have the chance to slip back into her old comfortable position, even if it’s only for a single mission and only because it’s time-sensitive.

Ray shifts uncomfortably in his chair. “So they believe that these women are being taken out of the country and don’t believe the local cops or FBI are able to stop them in time?”

“Maybe they just want us to make us lap dogs, sitting here with our thumbs up our asses all weekend waiting to see if anyone else can take care of this before it becomes our problem.” Sonny settles forward in his chair as he curls his hands in front of him and pants like a begging dog. He looks to Brock for a moment and smiles, “No offense to Cerberus, of course.”

Lisa pulls their attention back to her by pulling up a map of the D.C., Baltimore, and northern Virginia area on the screen then pointing to areas as she explains. “The FBI was able to track the van on interstate cameras to Annapolis, MD, and found it smoldering at a small, recently built dock on Chesapeake Bay. There were no cameras in the area so all they know is that there were at least one, likely two, small skiffs ready and waiting.” She pulls up photos of the burnt out van and the dock with mooring ropes still attached that the FBI had found. “As I said, it seems they’ve planned this abduction very well. They got a few hours head start and are going to blend in with the normal boat traffic to try to evade detection. The sun was already setting by the time the FBI put this much information together, so at some point tonight they’re expected to cross the Bay Tunnel-Bridge and head straight for open waters.” She turns back to the team, trying to keep her thoughts on the mission instead of on the plight of the women, as she scans between the operators to see who has questions or ideas. Her eyes stop as she looks square at Jason. “This means at any moment it’s going to be in our purview.”

Blackburn uncrosses his arms and briefly rubs his hands together. “That puts them right on our doorstep, boys. If they’re found before they hit open water then you may get to head right back to your weekend plans.” He pauses for a beat. “No one is confident that will happen.”

Mandy can’t help the nervous chill that slides into her brain. “If they’re not found and they make it out to whatever larger craft they have waiting to pick them up you know it’s a big ocean and they could be taking these medically fragile women anywhere in the world to be sold to anyone for prostitution, held hostage for ransom, or killed for propaganda videos.” She pauses, letting the dire consequences seep into the team’s minds for a moment. “This is all over the news stations, of course, and unless we can stop them now this group or other copycats might try this again as a way to sew fear into regular citizens. Our health care system is already a huge topic of contention and if people are afraid they might be kidnapped when they’re at their most vulnerable it’s going to cause panic, confusion, and problems for everyone.”

Blackburn jumps in. “If these women end up in propaganda videos or images of their deaths make it back to the newspapers it’s going to be a black stain on our country for a long time to come.” He stops and looks up when a knock sounds on the door then hollers for them to enter. “I’ve invited the leaders of our SWCC team to sit in as we discuss options, assuming we could get the call to spin up any second and we still don’t know have as much information as we’d like. The closer we can keep this mission to our shores the faster we can get those women back home. With their medical vulnerabilities any delays could mean deaths even before they make it to their destination.”

Jason stands and shakes the hand of his counterpart. Their SWCC team has saved Bravo Team’s butts on more than a few occasions and they’d never be able to pull off an open water small craft rescue without their help. He turns back to Davis, Mandy, and Blackburn; his mind is already starting to form ideas about how to proceed. “Best case scenario: their boats are slow or they’re caught in traffic and it’ll take them another few hours to make it down here. Can we throw together some fake military exercises to block their path?”

Lisa pulls up the map again, zooming in closer to home. “They’ve had enough of a head start that they could be crossing right under our noses within the next hour. That’s just not enough time to try to blockade the entire area and search every vessel that comes through.”

Jason huffs and crosses his arms over his chest as he leans back into his heels. “Okay, then worst case scenario is that at any moment they’re going to cross under our noses and head out to sea, meet up with some unknown vessel of unknown size with an unknown number of assailants and head to some unknown place. That’s way too many variables.” He frowns as he walks closer to the front of the room, his frustration getting the better of him as he steps between Lisa and Mandy, invading their space. “Davis, Mandy, what are the analysts and spooks doing to track these bastards so we know what we’re doing to rescue the hostages?”

“The FBI is doing what they can, police jurisdictions from all nearby areas have boats patrolling, satellites are trying to sort through all of the bay’s traffic, and someone is going to spot them sooner or later. Unfortunately, as long as it’s dark out it’s going to be difficult determining what boat or boats we’re looking for, even with heat source mapping satellites.” Lisa’s voice betrays her anxiety, knowing the team will start crawling the walls if they’re in a holding pattern for too long, but also realizes they need time to prepare options so they can be moving on target the second she has all the information they need.

Blackburn steps up behind the women to gently challenge Jason. “I called you in before the information was solid because Senator Miller and the President aren’t going to like any delays. If it’s confirmed the kidnappers have gotten these women into international waters we’re getting the orders.” He straightens his spine, even knowing that Hayes will still tower over him, and looks his Master Chief in the eyes. “If we screw this up there’s going to be hell to pay, including congressional inquiries. This team doesn’t want to welcome that kind of scrutiny.”

Lisa doesn’t like being between them when they’re on edge like this, so she speaks up and pulls focus back to her. “What we know is we have a chance to stop them in open waters just a few miles off our shores, and now I’m going to go back to pushing the analysts to see what else I can put together for you.” As she walks past Sonny, she pauses for a moment in hopes of lightening the tense mood in the room. “Sonny, don’t forget your shark bracelet. I’m sure they’re pretty hungry this time of year.” She smiles as the team laughs then heads out the door.

“Ha ha; very funny. Just you wait. Some day you’re going to meet up with one of them man eaters and then you’ll be wishing you had my shark repelling bracelet,” Sonny says.

Clay turns towards Blackburn and Mandy. “Has Senator Miller said anything to the public, yet? Do we believe his daughter was purposefully taken or was it a coincidence? Is there any chance that the kidnappers don’t know who they grabbed?”

Typing on the laptop, Mandy pulls up video footage. “No ransom demand has come in yet, but Miller has made this statement.” She plays a video of Senator Miller at a press conference stating that his daughter is missing and asking the public to contact an FBI tip line if they have information. Completely ignoring the other women who were kidnapped, he talks about how his daughter is a fitness instructor and burgeoning model. There’s a groan or two in the room.

Blackburn says, “If they didn’t know who they had before, they obviously do now.”

Brock huffs as he says what everyone is thinking, “Sounds like he couldn’t care less about the other women.”

“Are you surprised? This guy gets big bucks from defense contractors while hemming and hawing over funding for military body armor.” Jason walks to his chair and puts his hands on the back as he leans his weight into it. “I get the feeling that he’d have no problem if all the other women died as long as his daughter comes home so his campaign doesn’t suffer.”

Trent finally speaks up from the back of the room, “Do we have any idea what their medical conditions are?” As the team medic he’s going to have to be prepared to treat any life-threatening injuries or symptoms immediately upon finding the women, so the more he knows the more efficiently he can pack to be prepared. “If they’ve been getting chemotherapy or certain medications then having them exposed to bright sunlight on the ocean is going to cause serious sunburns; if they’re healing from surgery there could be internal bleeding if they’re knocked around.”

Mandy sighs. “Last I heard they were still trying to figure out who all the women are. There were a few that had their belongings tossed as they were put into the cabs so we have their identification, but for others they only have eyewitness reports and surveillance video to work from. Then it’s a matter of contacting families or pressing their doctors to bend HIPPA.”

Ray leans forward in his chair and looks at his teammates. “What we do know is that this will be an open water small craft takedown. It’s highly unlikely we’re going to get more than one good shot at bringing them all home alive.”

“Yeah, and the longer it takes to know what we’re looking for, the greater the risk of them ending up in on an island in the Caribbean where the women will be easily trafficked anywhere else in the world before they get too sick to be sold.” Jason’s frustration is bleeding deep into his voice. He hates getting an incomplete target package and walking into an unknown situation, but there’s barely even a starting point for them to consider yet.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lisa has gathered more intel and Bravo's mission is starting to take shape.

A shiver slices down Cymbre’s back as the kidnappers rip the blankets off the pile of women. She raises her head and looks around her to see the other boat pulling up alongside a small yacht and unloading. She holds her arms close to her body, hoping they won’t notice what she did. Suddenly their captors start screaming at them to stand, but all the women struggle to do so. One of the men steps up close and grabs the woman next to her; she screams in fear and stumbles backwards, almost falling out of the boat. Cymbre tries to catch her, but it gives away that her arms are in front of her. The guy jumps at her and grabs the cuffs between her hands, ripping her forward as she yelps from the pain of her wrists and shoulders dislocating. She falls to her knees in front of him as he grabs her chin and stretches her head back so she looks straight up at him. The boat pulls close to the yacht and bumps against it, nearly sending her over onto her side.

“How did you get your hands in front of you? Where is your blindfold?” When she doesn’t answer he slaps her. She can feel the pressure on her neck and knows this isn’t good for her. Defiant, she keeps silent. He holds her while the rest of the women are gathered and pushed onto the yacht. Then he grabs the flexcuffs again and hauls her to her feet. “If you think you’re so clever then you’ll be the first to experience your new fate,” he says as he turns and drags her up into the yacht while she struggles to keep on her feet. As she stumbles across the deck a man next to her pulls out a shotgun and aims for the other boat, shooting holes in it to scuttle it. She starts to shake, realizing if she pushes her luck too hard she might have the gun trained on her.

While the rest of the women are taken down into the front cabin, she’s left inside the living room area in the center of the boat. She can hear the other women crying and begging for their lives just before the door is slammed shut and bits of metal scrape together, like a padlock being placed, yet not locked, to prevent the door from being opened from the inside. One man stands outside of the room as another man forces her to sit on a chair facing the back of the boat. A third man tosses the blankets and bungee cords in through the doorway next to her then heads back outside. With a chuckle, her captor grabs the bungee cords and wraps them around her to keep her tied to the chair. From her vantage she can watch as the men gather at the back of the boat and use the mast to slowly haul the extra boat up on deck to secure and cover it. It must be some kind of lifeboat. She takes in her surroundings, trying to figure out what options she might have to escape or hide. Unfortunately, the sparse space offers her few options even if she were to free herself from this chair.

She watches as four of the kidnappers struggle to get the small boat onboard and strapped down. Without her meds she’s got two options: being constantly flooded with adrenaline until her brain can no longer handle it or crashing and losing consciousness. She’s either going to be spending her entire time dissociated and on the verge of hallucinating from overdosing on adrenaline or she’s going to completely defenseless. She swallows hard as she hears the guy guarding the front room and the man behind the steering wheel start discussing what they’re going to do to her and who gets to go first.

*****

Suddenly Lisa bursts through the door of DEVGRU and rushes up to the front of the room carrying a flash drive. She connects it to the laptop and starts pulling up information as she talks. “Good news is we found them; bad news is thirty minutes ago they passed right by us and headed out into the wide open ocean with no one else close enough to do anything. It’s officially our mission. I’ve got a lot more info now, so let’s get to planning.”

Jason sits back down in his chair and pulls his laptop closer. Lisa is pushing photos and information to their laptops so they can see the images closer. The first image is a satellite feed. “Did you find what they’re headed to?”

Lisa puts satellite photos on the monitor behind her as she briefly ignores Jason’s question. “They found two skiffs traveling together crossing the Chesapeake Bay Tunnel-Bridge. These large groups look like the women were piled together then haphazardly covered with blankets. Heat signatures appear to show multiple bodies crammed together in the back, as you can see here.” She changes the image to show the evidence. “Once we identified the skiffs were unable to support an open ocean voyage of significant distance we turned our attention out to open waters. If they continue in the direction they’re heading there’s a forty-six foot yacht sitting idle twenty nautical miles off our shores; putting them within our commerce territory, but in international waters. It would be big enough to cram all of the women in one or both staterooms while they use the rest of the boat to live on while they travel to wherever they’re going, yet won’t draw excessive attention to them.” While talking, she changes the images on the monitor to show satellite photos of the suspected destination ship.

“Do we have images of the layout of that ship?” Jason asks as he flips through the photos on his laptop.

“We don’t know the exact model or year, but we have video of one that looks to be similar. It appears to be an older model Grand Banks 46.” Lisa pulls up a sales video and plays it for the group on the large monitor. “The ship is relatively small, so there’s nowhere to hide and slow play once you board.”

“Fast and dirty is the name of the game here, boys.” Ray says with a hint of a smile.

Jason is looking closely at the video. “Stop. Back it up three seconds.”

“Looks like the best place to infil is by getting on the diving platform at the back, jumping the stern, and clearing around the sides.” Ray points out to the group.

Clay interjects, “It looks like there are several small windows into the cabins. Do we have images of what’s inside those rooms?”

Lisa fast forwards the video to show the smaller cabin. “There’s no guarantee the layout will be the same, but we know it will be similar. Likely most or all of the women will be held in the bow cabin, the smaller of the cabins, as the two windows and escape skylight would be too high and too small for them to reasonably get out without being noticed. The larger cabin here,” she fast forwards the video to show the larger cabin, “located at the stern has far more windows and an emergency exit door that leads on deck, so they’d have to be watched more closely if they were shoved in there.”

“What’s in the middle? Looks like good cover for the kidnappers in the middle of the boat,” Sonny says. “Can we see that part again?” As Lisa scrolls the video he stops her. “Looks like they’ll have an excellent view of everything around them from inside, but if they get low we won’t be able to see them. Damn unlucky for us.”

“How’s the top deck look?” Clay asks. Lisa fast forwards the video to show the open air, awning-covered section up top. “If they have someone up there they’d be able to see us swimming up on them. We’re going to need eyes overhead to tell us when it’s clear before we can even approach. We can’t risk getting picked off by someone while we’re still in the water.”

Jason stands and walks close to the screen behind Lisa. “We need eyes in the sky, for sure. If they’re clipping along at a good pace we’re going to have a hard time getting close enough. There’s no way we’re swimming in if they’re moving, so we need to find some way to get them to stop.” He looks towards Lisa. “What’s the weather like through the morning?”

Lisa types on her laptop and pulls up weather information and data on ocean currents in the area. “The cold front that’s currently passing over us is going to kick up the seas to the north. Even if they’re not heading towards the Caribbean the weather should push them south.”

“That’ll slow down our ability to get to them, but whether we’re reaching them in three hours or three days we need an infil plan.” Jason looks to the SWCC team Senior Chief. “I don’t want to be chasing behind them, so we need to get in front, assuming they’re going to head south to get to easier waters. LVADS from a C130 with two CCA RHIBs would get us in the water. Then we hold at distance with overwatch to tell us when to approach to swim.” The SWCC team Senior Chief nods and smiles in agreement.

“No chance we can stop them before they get to this yacht?” Clay asks.

“Well, Claymore Ken, it’d be pretty hard to sneak up on them at full speed,” Sonny says.

“So we get in between and let them come to us,” Clay retorts.

Jason groans. “It would take them all of five seconds to shower the pile of women with bullets. No. Besides, if they’re not already at the yacht there’s no way we could intercept in time. Let them get the women on board where there’s less of a chance of pitching them over the side at a moment’s notice.” He points to the SWCC team. “One RHIB can get us in close in the dark and we swim the last leg, keeping the second at distance until we’re clear so we have space to put the freed hostages.”

Ray adds, “Keep overwatch on the RHIB to pick off any on the upper deck or in the living space who might spot us.”

“Yeah, once we’ve cleared the top we have a viewer on each cabin through the windows and the rest of us crowd in and clear front and back so we can say who’s where in each room.” Jason stops and looks around the room. “These women are undergoing medical care. They’re not likely to be able to fight back in any reasonable way. I’d be willing to bet they’re going to lock the women in that forward cabin and post one guy outside. Verify it through the windows and we should be able to take out the guard before he can even open the door. That minimizes risk to the hostages.”

Mandy steps closer. “The request from my bosses is that we take at least one kidnapper prisoner for questioning. We need to know where they were being taken and if they have more of these snatch and grabs planned anytime soon.” She curls her fists at her sides as her voice turns rough. “Besides, I’d like to get in front of as many of them as you can bring me and dig through their brains until I know everything they know about their operations.”

Lisa jumps in. “We need to know if they purposefully grabbed the senator’s daughter. We also need to know if they targeted young, unhealthy women outside hospitals for a specific reason besides they are less likely to be physically able to fight back while still bringing in good money.” She feels a twang of guilt. She’s drawn a lucky card by being healthy and in the military, but she remembers back when she was eleven and had to rescue her sister from a fire while her other sister died. They spent days in the hospital recovering from smoke inhalation, but it could’ve been much worse. If they’d been released only to have been kidnapped, what would or could she have done? She clears her throat when several of the team members stand as they continue to talk about the mission. “Guys,” she pauses as she snaps her fingers to get their attention, “I also have more information on some of the women who were taken.” When their eyes return to her she flips the image on the screen to include photos of several young women. “Amber Miller-Bates has been getting fertility treatments. A few were undergoing care for cancer, severe asthma, and heart problems. One is a violence victim who was just released after a week in the hospital for being beaten on by her boyfriend.” The team slowly takes their seats in silence as they watch the photos flip by. Hearing that one is a violence victim makes them sit a little straighter, a little tense nervousness seeping past their emotional armor. “This woman in particular is who we’re really worried about, though,” Lisa says as she enlarges the photo of an average looking woman with extra pale skin and short brown hair. “Her name is Cymbre Watters. She flew into D.C. from Minnesota this morning for an appointment with a neurosurgeon and had planned to fly back earlier tonight. The cops scanned images of paperwork they found in her belongings. She has a huge list of medical conditions,” Lisa pauses as she shows a list of medications and diagnoses next to the photo, “most of which I’ve never even heard of.”

Jason turns to Trent. “You?”

Trent pulls up a closer image of the list on his laptop and scans over it. “I’ve never heard of most of these, so I’m going to have to do some quick research to be ready.”

Lisa jumps back in. “The top one is Ehlers Danlos Syndrome. It looks like it’s a genetic disorder that basically makes her body fall apart at the seams, hence the other conditions. Her post-appointment paperwork says she was there pursuing neurosurgery because the dislocations in her neck have become severe enough to cause disruptions to the nerve signals going to her organs, which will eventually threaten her life. They also suspect tethered cord, which would make her legs unreliable, in addition to countless joint dislocations.”

“Vagus nerve issues means one solid knock to the head or twist of the neck could result in an internal decapitation and without instant stabilization her heart and lungs would likely fail. Damn it.” Trent has been lucky enough to not have to deal with such a serious outcome before, but he knows the importance of the c-collar after any head or spinal injury due to the incredible risk. For most people they worry about paralyzation, but if the vagus nerve is significantly affected it’s instant death with no hope of ever coming back. “Whoever finds her needs to keep her back, head, and neck flat and stable.” He swipes his hand over his face as he focuses back on the more wide-spread questions. “What about medications? If we can’t get to them for a few days we should consider administering overdue medications before they get back to shore. Are we getting lists on that?”

Lisa looks at her laptop and scrolls through the information she has. “We have lists for a few, but we’re still working on determining who the last few women are. I’ll push to have that info prioritized, but I think we may have to hope we get them back to shore before any complications become dire.” The team goes quiet for a moment, taking in the severity of the situation.

Blackburn claps his hands together once, shaking them out of their thoughts. “Okay, so SWCC needs to load up equipment and Bravo needs to pack gear.” He stops and turns to Lisa. “How long until we have a drone overhead with a better view? Once we’re wheels up we don’t want a long cat and mouse game.”

Lisa checks her messages on her laptop to see if any new information has come in. “Coast Guard has been contacting other vessels to immediately clear the area and FAA is clearing the skies so we can get a drone up. Give me two hours. By the time everything is loaded and ready I’ll have eyes on so you can get a better look before wheels up.”

“You heard her,” Blackburn says as he looks at his watch. “It’s nearing 0300. Get yourselves straight and Bravo will meet back here to get an inside view before wheels up just after 0500.”

The SWCC team hustles out the door to get started on loading up the RHIBs and their gear while Bravo follows and heads for their cages to pack their kits and jock up.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Rape scene.
> 
> Don't worry: Emma's still not ready to talk about that party, but the phone call affected Jason more than he realized in the moment. Can he stay focused and get Bravo to the yacht in time to save the kidnapped women?

Cymbre’s exhaustion is overwhelming. She can barely keep her eyes open as she watches the last straps get tied down on the lifeboat. She had to be at the airport so early yesterday morning that she’s probably been awake for more than a full day and it’s grating down her energy level quickly. She stays silent in the chair, watching as the kidnappers start to file into the room. Making out just a few of the French words a few of them are using based on the tiny bit she remembers from high school, she believes they’re talking about the boat instead of her or the other hostages. She breaths quietly, wishing that they’re about to relax for the rest of the trip to wherever they’re going.

Of course, that wasn’t going to happen. She tenses as her eyes snap open when two of them walk closer to her. One bends forward and hisses in her face as he unwraps the bungee cords from around her. Another steps forward and hits her hard in the stomach, causing her to bend forward in pain. They grab her hair and wrench her back in the seat just in time for another hard punch to the head to send her flying out of the chair and onto the floor. Before she realizes what’s happening they shove her down; one pulls out a large folding knife and slices down her shoes to cut the laces, down the sides of her sweatpants, and up on her shirt; shortly after they rip the clothes from her body leaving her in a bra, underwear, compression stockings, and multiple joint braces. They start to laugh at the braces as through her dizziness she debates trying to cover her body or not risking moving at all.

“Please,” she begs quietly. Her head is throbbing and her body is screeching in pain as thin cuts from where he knife grazed her skin start to turn red and swell. She feels faint and nearly loses consciousness as she tries to covertly look around the room, hoping to find some kind of escape or savior; doesn’t matter she knows no such thing exists right now. The two in front of her laugh again as the guard at the door to the front cabin leans against the wall, the pilot behind the wheel stands with his arms crossed and a smile on his face, and the other two sit on the couch nearby; they’re all ready to watch a show as they cheer on Josue and Renel, who are poised and ready to hurt her. “Please don’t,” she begs again as her limbs tighten in fear and she suddenly launches herself forward, trying to attack them back.

A hand flies at her, backhanding her right across the face; she’s sent tumbling backwards. More hands start grabbing; her legs are pulled out from under her and she’s hauled backwards by her ankles as her hands are grabbed from overhead. She’s lifted and dropped onto the long table in front of the couch, her legs dangling off one end while her head falls back at the other. She squirms, trying to get away, but it’s useless. The blade comes out again and her few remaining coverings and joint braces are sliced and ripped from her body, leaving her totally exposed. As she starts to dissociate from the situation her ankles are grabbed and pulled apart as one body approaches her center then her arms are nearly ripped from the sockets as another body approaches her face. There’s nowhere for her to go. Violent pain slams into vulnerable areas as they begin to rape her while the others cheer them on. All she can do is struggle to breathe against the oral invasion and not fight against the violence.

*****

The team is jocked up and gathered back in DEVGRU to see what new information Lisa has for them. Blackburn is fielding calls from the brass, who are getting an earful from Senator Miller and the President, hoping he can assuage their anxieties. The SWCC Senior Chief reports everything’s loaded onto the C130 and ready to deploy; once Bravo is on board they’re wheels up. Mandy has joined, even though she has little new information to offer.

“Have they met up with the yacht,” Jason asks.

Lisa pulls up recorded video from the satellite. They watch as the boats slow and approach the yacht. The captors rip off the blankets as the women try to huddle together. One of the boats runs up alongside the yacht and they harshly pull the women up and toss them into the yacht one by one. They’re gathered and forced down into the front cabin, just as suspected.

“How many captors are we looking at?” Jason sees two in each boat and at least two on the yacht. “I’m counting six.”

“Same here,” Ray says. “So a guard outside the cabin door, one driving, and the other four chilling out means we’re going to have to get a few visible and drop their numbers before we board. Otherwise it’ll be pretty crowded in that small of a space.”

Bravo watches the heat signatures closely as one boat is sunk and the other is emptied of women. As one woman is nearly thrown overboard, another gets ripped forward onto her knees. Each person in the room wishes they could already be on site, but in this moment their eyes are glued to the images before them. The women are hauled inside with one curiously left in the center of the yacht, while four of the kidnappers haul the other motorboat on board. They fast forward the video, trying to get a better take on what’s happening inside the vessel.

“What the hell is this? Is that one an ally or a hostage?” Sonny voices what they’re all thinking as it appears one of the women is kept separated. There’s no answer, since all they can do is watch to see what happens.

“Now that they’re in international waters I’ve gotten approval to use a night vision drone to get better views. It should be overhead any moment now.” Lisa switches the feed to the live drone footage, zooming in closer and clearing up the video so they can see better defined images and have a reasonable chance of making out who is who.

Jason clears his throat, pulling attention to him as the video continues to play on the screen. “Okay, so we know this was well-planned. They’re going to have to push south because of the weather. If we hit them before sunrise we’re going to know very little and that puts everyone at risk. I think we need to let it play out for a few hours. Has there been a ransom demand or anyone taking credit?”

Mandy steps forward. “There’s been no additional chatter overseas, but we don’t have a lot of current information on trafficking networks at our easy disposal. No ransom demands yet, but obviously they’ve been busy trying to get them off-shore without being caught.”

“If we come up on them too hard, having all of those women in such a small, confined area means it wouldn’t take much for the kidnappers to kill them all.” Ray shifts in his chair, not wanting to think about the devastation of that outcome. “If we make a night run we can get up close, but as long as they’re awake and the lights are on we have nowhere to hide when on board and there goes our advantage.”

“Is there any way to turn out the lights on them,” Clay asks.

Jason scoffs. “We’d have to take down the generator or cut the power, neither of which is easily accomplished unless you’re already on board.”

“So we approach in the dark and hit in the day,” Clay says.

“How long until sunrise,” Jason questions Lisa.

“About two hours,” Lisa responds.

Clay gasps. “Oh shit, look.”

The team turns their attention back to the live drone feed. The motorboat has been hoisted into place and secured. One kidnapper appears to be guarding the door to the front cabin, one appears to be standing by the wheel, two sit on a nearby couch, and the remaining two approach the woman who has been sitting in the middle of the boat. The attackers do something around her then she’s hit hard. They pull her upright then she’s punched, sending her tumbling down to the ground again. Making quick movements over her, they’re possibly ripping her clothes away. The attackers pause for a moment, leaving her lying unmoving. The silence in the room is laying heavily over the group, each person both sure and unsure about what they’re seeing unfold before them.

Brock is the first to speak, his voice low and stressed. “I’m thinking she’s not with them, but might have just been singled out for some reason.”

“Maybe senator big bucks should be watching this and wondering if his little speech set up his daughter,” Sonny says, with his frustration clearly evident.

After a minute or two passes, the woman’s heat signature moves and attention turns back to the screen; curiosity gets the better of everyone and they can’t turn away. The woman launches herself forward at two of her attackers, their heat signatures mixing. It takes but a moment for one of them to backhand her hard and send her flying backwards. They then grab her legs and arms and haul her into the middle of the room, seemingly set on a table. Fast movements over her again and two of the attackers move in close, one at her head and the other at her legs. They stay that way for several minutes before what’s now happening starts to dawn on the people watching from a few dozen miles away.

“Turn it off,” Jason demands. “Watching any more of this right now isn’t going to help us focus. Let some analysts deal with that for now.” Lisa takes the image off the screen and switches back to the sales video of the yacht. For a split second an image of Emma enters Jason’s mind as he thinks back to her sad and worried voice from the phone call earlier, but he shoves it aside. He can’t be distracted. These women are counting on him making the right decisions. He shakes his head slightly, as if to dislodge the errant thoughts, before turning back to the screen. “If the seas are getting choppy up north and pushing them south, what are they looking at for weather as they get to the Carolinas and Georgia? That’s where we’re probably going to meet up with them.”

Lisa pulls up additional weather coverage. “There’s still plenty of heat down there, so as the cold pushes down that way it’s going to cause some fog on the water.”

“Okay, that gives us some additional options,” Jason says with a little more optimism.

“They’ll slow for the fog and that’ll give us a chance to get in close without them seeing the RHIBs, swim up, and by the time they know we’re there it’ll be too late for them,” Ray sounds almost gleeful.

Sonny turns to the SWCC Senior Chief. “I hope ya’ll remember to keep one eye on the water for sharks. Don’t want the fishy bastards sneaking up and taking a chunk out of my boo-tay.”

Clay’s sitting nearby and he chomps his hand together in a biting motion, moving closer and closer until he chomps at Sonny’s hip. “One bite of that good ol’ boy Texas man meat and they’ll never let go,” he teases.

The team laughs for a moment before Jason grabs their attention back. “Dial it in, guys. We need to get loaded onto the C130. Let’s hope that the kidnappers put out a ransom request or images that will give us more information about their objectives so we know how hard they’ll fight back to keep their prisoners.” He turns his attention to the SWCC leader. “Ready to take these guys out?” When he gets an affirmative, he looks to Bravo. “Let’s get those women home before they miss another dinner.”

As both teams head out to finish preparations Lisa flips back to the drone feed and checks for new information being fed to her. She closes and disconnects the laptop from the screen, grabs her phone on the way out of DEVGRU, and gets loud when she places a call and asks why there’s a holdup on getting more information as she powers down the hallway. She’s determined to have something more in the next five minutes before wheels up.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One thing about frequently fighting against impossible odds is you learn the human body can survive incredible things as long as the mind has the will. BUD/S teaches SEALs to embrace the suck and push through; serious medical conditions can do similar. Does this mean Cymbre still has some fight left or are the kidnappers done with her and about to attack another hostage? If Bravo team moves on target too soon they're putting themselves at risk, but if they wait too long they might lose some of the women.
> 
> What does Emma's situation have to do with any of it? Chapter 6 will include Emma making an important decision that requires her evaluate what's important to her and who she can rely on.

Tears fall freely down Cymbre’s face as the kidnappers finally let her go and step back. She rolls to her side until she falls off the table with a harsh thud. She pulls her knees up to her chest as she pushes her back against the table stand, desperate to hide. She’d hoped they wouldn’t actually do it; clearly that was too much to wish for. Her eyes press tightly shut, ignoring the damp on her face and in her hair from her tears. Her hands are still flexcuffed in front of her so she wipes at the damp by her mouth only to notice that it’s mostly blood from the edges of her mouth having been torn. She wipes again then rubs her hand on the floor, desperately trying to get it off of her. There’s no way she wants to consider how bad other places are torn. She falls deep into her misery for a moment, trying to remover herself from everything around her. None of this is happening; it’s just a nightmare. It can’t be real. No way in hell is this real.

Yet the laughter and taunts being thrown at her are real. The pain is all too real. How can she fight against this? How can she escape?

“Fritz, it’s your turn! Give her a taste of what she’ll spend the rest of her life enjoying,” one of the men yells to the guard at the front cabin. “Or pick one of the others if you want it fresh.”

Cym shivers at the cruelty in their tone and it snaps her back into her head. Can she let them do this to the other women? A few more solid hits and she’ll be dead anyways, so who cares what happens to her, right? She turns her head and fights to sit upright, staring at the next attacker. “Fuck you! You’re just weak cum sucking fuck-tards!” She can see a fire light in his eyes as he growls under his breath. For a moment she regrets the decision to egg him on, but now it’s too late to turn back. He charges up the stairs and grabs her by the throat, dragging her upright and backwards off the floor as her body dangles from his hand. Pushing a chair out of the way he slams her up against the wall, her head pressing hard into one of the windows.

“You just can’t help yourself,” Fritz taunts. “Great. That’ll fetch us more money as everyone loves an animal with a spirit to be broken.” He pushes against her throat harder until her face starts to turn purple. “Or we can kill you now and still have eleven women to sell,” he sneers, tiny drops of spit splashing her cheek. What he doesn’t know is because of her conditions she’s able to stay partially conscious even after minutes without oxygen to her brain, so when he finally lets go of her throat she stays limp and bides her time, waiting for him to take his focus off of her for just a moment.

As he moves to drop his pants she jumps and using what little strength she has she wraps her arms around the back of his neck so the flexcuff is pulling hard at the base of his skull. She kicks a foot against the wall for momentum to push him backward with her forearms, giving a little space between them. Then she uses the leverage from putting most of her weight on her arms and his neck to slam her right knee into his left side as hard as she can. The first shot knocks the wind out of him while she breathes hard to get oxygen back into her lungs. The second shot she hears a satisfying crack as his ribs splinter and break. By now the other kidnappers in the room realize what’s happening and they rush to their buddy’s aid, pulling her off him and sending her flying across the room. As she slides across the floor her head hits the edge of a cabinet and she’s knocked unconscious from the force, just a second too soon to see Fritz cough and spit up blood from the bone splinters piercing his heart and lungs then collapsing on the floor.

*****

The first hints of daybreak are threatening the dark night as Bravo shoulders their gear and heads for the landing strip. The SWCC team is finishing triple-checking the release mechanisms holding the crated RHIBs in place and taking their seats. They’re not taking Bravo’s regular C17 as they don’t need to go far and they need the right amount of space for the larger RHIBs; one to bring overwatch in close and another to stay at distance. They need plenty of extra space to bring all the women – and at least one kidnapper – back with them to shore.

Lisa calls out on the radio just as Bravo team steps onto the airfield. “Hold up. You’ve got to see something,” she says, anxiety tightly wound through her words. The team turns around and waits as she comes running up to them with a large tablet in her hands. “You’ve got to see what the drone just captured,” she says as she hits play on a video while the team crowds around her.

For a moment Jason wants to throw the tablet rather than watch as one of the women is attacked again, but then his curiosity is piqued as he sees her go on the offensive. “Did she just knee him in the ribs,” he asks no one in particular. They watch as she’s sent tumbling across the room in a pile, but then focus back on the attacker. The guy collapses as his buddies try to hold onto him. A minute passes, then another. He doesn’t get up. The other kidnappers mill around him, with one attempting to do CPR. They appear to be in chaos, arguing with each other around the body. One runs down into the rear cabin and returns a minute later, going straight to the woman and doing something to her. She’s then dragged down to the front cabin and tossed in. The kidnappers then congregate around their buddy whose heat signature is fading quickly. They pick him up, drag him outside, and dump his body into the ocean. “Hot damn, she killed him,” Jason says in awe.

“Looks like at least one of them women is a firecracker ready to fight for her life,” Sonny says. “She just made our job a little easier.”

Ray steps back and resituates his gear on his back. “That is until they decide she’s no longer worth their efforts and do even worse to her than they’ve already done.”

The team turns and starts walking towards the C130 again when a notification pops up on the screen. Lisa looks at it and immediately calls them back. With a huff, they turn around again. She opens the file and starts the video. It’s from inside the yacht.

“By now you have had enough time to notice these women missing,” a masked kidnapper says as he turns the camera on the women huddled together in the forward cabin. They’ve all been stripped down to bras and underwear. One of the women, presumably the one that had been kept upstairs to be assaulted, is lying naked and unconscious on the floor with two of the women sitting in front of her, hopelessly trying to shield her body from the camera. The kidnapper turns the camera back on himself. “If you want to keep them safe, we demand $500,000 each, for a total of $6 million dollars.” A link appears at the bottom of the page. “The money will be sent through this website by 7 pm eastern time or we’ll start killing them.” He bends down and grabs one of the women by her arm; she yelps as he pulls her close to him and licks her face through the mouth hole on his mask. “Though the longer you wait to pay the more time we will have to torture them first.” He laughs as he pulls the woman out of the room and slams the door shut. The sound of a padlock being put on the door is obvious then he turns his back to the door. “Anyone who watches this video can submit a payment, but you won’t know how much has been paid until the timer hits zero. Remember, this could be you or your family next time.” He pulls the camera back and tilts it down to show the knife that’s now in his hand and tracing lightly down the woman’s toned abdomen, then the video cuts to black.

The team is visibly shaken. Their fists are balled up and their jaws are clenched tight. It takes a moment before any of them even breathes a full breath.

Jason is the first to speak. “They must have taken the video right after dumping their buddy. They’re probably furious and needed to lash out.” He takes a breath and looks around. “Do we actually believe that they’re just trying to get a bunch of scared people to give money a little at a time in hopes that they or their family won’t be the next ones kidnapped?”

“Seems like they’re trying to make GoFundRansom dot com,” Sonny says as he grits his teeth. “Shame we’ll be hacking their heads off real soon.”

Clay steps up closer and grabs the tablet, scrolling the video back to pause on the woman lying on the ground. “Can we tell which woman that is?” He turns the tablet to the others.

Lisa grabs the tablet, changes screens, and pulls up the photos of the women then switches back and forth comparing them to the video as Jason steps closer and looks over her shoulder. It takes a minute for her to figure it out, but she’s dismayed when she does. “Oh no.”

“Damn it. It’s Cymbre Watters.” Jason looks up at his teammates. “It’s the one most likely to die from getting beaten up. And she’s already taken some seriously violent blows.”

“Can we tell if she’s breathing,” Trent asks as he grabs the tablet and slowly scrolls the video, watching to see if her chest is moving; unfortunately, the video isn’t clear enough to tell. What he does notice is that her legs and arms are tied together so she’d be incapable of moving out of the fetal position she’s lying in. “They’ve tied her up tighter. Clearly they got the message that she’s going to fight back,” he says. He moves the video forward again. “Is that Amber,” he asks as he pauses on the woman the kidnapper is pulling out of the room.

Lisa lowers the tablet in his hands and changes the view to photos of the women and scrolls through to pull up Amber’s professional headshot. Trent briefly compares the two as the others watch; all arrive at the affirmative conclusion quickly.

“We’ve got to get airborne and dunked if we’re going to get to them in time.” Ray grabs the tablet and hands it back to Lisa. “Keep us updated. We need to know what we’re heading into.” He grabs Jason’s and Clay’s arms to tug them towards the aircraft. “There’s nothing more we can do while standing on the ground.”

The team turns and hustles over to the waiting plane. Lisa watches for a moment before heading back inside, changing the image over to the live drone shot, and hoping that there isn’t a faded heat signature of a dead woman waiting for her to find.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a long night, morning is coming. Emma needs some help and support. Who's she going to turn to? As Alana once said, when your loved one's job is to save the world, any time you want to come first you're being selfish.
> 
> Bravo is heading for the plane. Can Cymbre, Amber, and the rest of the hostages hang on?
> 
> To anyone wondering: Cymbre's medical symptoms in this chapter are real. I've experienced them myself, multiple times. It's something you learn to deal with and move on.

Everything is spinning and everything is pain when Cymbre finally starts to regain consciousness. She can’t help but whimper as she tries to shift her body, only to find that she’s unable to move any significant amount. Multiple joints are shifted out of place, her head and neck are screaming in pain, she can’t move or feel her legs, and she’s certain she’s about to throw up from the dizziness. The foreign sounds around her are muffled and distant, as if she’s listening to a made-up language while underwater. As she struggles to move her body, suddenly she feels a desperate need to swim; she needs to swim to the surface; she’s drowning. Knowing panic won’t help, Cym tries to calm her brain. There’s no water around her. She’s not drowning, even if that’s what her brain is telling her. She pulls her mind inward, scanning her body to find her lungs are struggling and her heart is out of rhythm. She knows this feeling; she’s had it too many times before. She can fix this. She stuffs the panic down and slowly pushes herself onto her back while straightening her neck. Struggling to force her muscles to relax, she tries to push a deep breath into her lungs, only for it to be rejected as her diaphragm remains paralyzed. She shifts her head slightly side to side, allowing her cervical vertebrae to slip back into place. Finally she feels relief when the spasmodic disjointed thump in her chest returns to a steady, life-affirming rhythm and the burning in her lungs abates when her breaths finally fill her lungs up. Only then does she turn her focus to her limbs, finding herself unable to separate her forearms and thighs. Only then do the haunting echoes of quiet sobs begin to divide into individual tones and voices. Only then do the images of nearly naked women come into focus around her.

Only then does Cymbre remember where she is.

“What did they do to you,” the woman near her head asks her quietly. “There were loud bangs and yelling then laughing.”

Cym contemplates her answer. They can see the blood around her mouth and down her thighs, right? They know what happened, so what are they asking? She swallows hard, testing her throat’s ability to use words as she coughs and tries to clear her throat of the foul, offending slime that’s coated inside it. “Don’t piss them off,” she informs, sadly. She closes her eyes and drops back within herself; using the moment away from the attackers to collapse within her agony. She knows she needs to find the strength to fight herself free and do something, anything, to go on the offensive again the next time the door opens.

*****

Emma rolls over in her dorm room bed, unable to sleep. The morning light is just starting to creep around the drawn blinds to offend her swollen, red eyes. She’s been in bed for hours trying to sleep, but when she closes her eyes her mind only replays the previous night’s events. Now that the sun’s up, there’s little chance she’s going to be able to sleep. Propping herself up on her pillows, she reaches out for the tv remote and flips it on. Remembering her father is on mission, she flips through the channels to see if she can guess where they sent him to so he couldn’t be there for her. As she gets to the all-day news channels she spots the reason. Images of multiple women are on the screen as the banner reads: “Whereabouts of 12 women kidnapped around D.C. area still unknown.” Her hand covers her mouth as rough cell phone video of one of the women being thrown into a cab is shown. Turning up the volume she listens to the pundits talking about what terror or trafficking groups might be involved, where they might be taken and why, and which agencies might be involved in any rescue attempts. By the time they mention that the Coast Guard and FAA are clearing out the coastal waters off the Eastern seaboard she’s certain that’s where her father is. Muting the tv she starts to cry, guilt falling over her. As much as she wants the safety and security of her father’s presence right now, these women need him much more. She flips over and starts to cry into her pillow, her knees drawn up to her chest as the hurt and fear from last night combines with the guilt and shame of wishing her father didn’t have to put others before her.

After a few minutes pass she bites her lip and tries to calm her crying. Wallowing isn’t going to help. Her dad always pushes right at the problem, so maybe that’s what she should try; but how? She reaches out and grabs her phone from the nightstand. It’s full of texts from the guy: drunkenly asking where she went, getting mad that she’s not coming back, then hours later apologizing and asking where she is because he wants to see her. She swipes them off her lock screen and dials Aunt Naima, desperate for a kind voice. The moment the phone is answered she blurts out, “Aunt Naima, I need you,” followed by a small sob. She tried to cover it up with her father, but she won’t do so again.

“Emma? Are you okay?” Naima is instantly worried.

“Something bad happened last night. I was so dumb,” Emma cries out.

“What happened, honey? Are you hurt? Do you need someone to come up there?” Of course, the first thoughts aren’t pleasant, but Naima is a strong military wife and with Alana, Emma’s mother, deceased she’s more than willing to jump in and help as much as she possibly can.

“I’m not hurt, but I’m scared. I was invited to this party with a guy I liked,” Emma pauses to wipe the tears from her face. “He tried to slip something in my drink, but when I saw and threw it across the room he hit me and tried to pull me into a room. Alone.” She takes a breath to try to choke back a sob, grateful when Naima doesn’t interrupt and lets her blurt out the story. “I pushed at him then kicked at his chest until he fell backwards over the bed. I ran out of the room and right back to my dorm.” Emma stops to grab a tissue, setting down the phone as she blows her nose. As she holds the tissue to her face she feels the sting of the fresh bruise and when she finishes wiping her nose she grabs the phone again and makes her way into the bathroom to look in the mirror. The dark blob on her cheek is obvious and hideous. She watches her tears slide down over the abused flesh and down off her chin. “I don’t know what to do,” she cries into the phone as she backs into the wall behind her and slides down until she’s sitting on the floor.

“Oh honey, that sounds awful.” Naima keeps her voice as calm and soothing as possible. “Do you think you should go to the hospital?”

“I don’t know,” Emma cries quietly.

“How about the police station?” Naima is already expecting to need to jump in the car, but she wants Emma to tell her what she wants, first.

“I don’t want to go alone,” comes the fearful reply a few seconds later.

Naima holds the phone to her ear with her shoulder as she quickly goes to toddler Junior’s room and starts getting him dressed while she gives Emma a few minutes of silence to think. Jameelah pokes her head in the door, obviously having just woken up. Naima mutes the phone to tell her daughter to quickly get dressed as they’re going to visit grandma. When she takes the phone off mute she asks Emma, “Do you want me to come up there and help?”

The question feels like a fresh breeze over Emma’s face. “Could you?”

“Of course I would do that for you. I’m getting the kids ready right now and I’ll drop them off at my mother’s house on my way out of town. It will take me a few hours to get there so will you be okay alone? Is there someone you can call to stay with you?” Naima checks that Jameelah is getting ready and takes Junior into the living room to play so she can pack a bag for the kids. Might as well let them stay at Grandma’s for the rest of the weekend, as she doesn’t want to have to rush back when Emma needs her.

Emma’s paralyzed brain loosens with the suggestion. “I have a friend I can call.” She sniffles and grabs some toilet paper to wipe at her nose again. “What about dad? I called him last night, but they were being spun up. I couldn’t tell him. It wouldn’t have been fair.”

Naima pauses for a moment, running ideas through her head. “You let me take care of that, okay? In the meantime, I’m going to hang up so I can get on the road and I want you to call your friend right away. If she can’t come over, ask her to stay with you on the phone or call someone else, okay?”

Letting out a shaky breath, Emma carefully brushes her hair back from her face with her hand. “Okay. I’ll see you soon.” She hangs up the phone and takes a second to try to calm down before calling her friend.

Naima hangs up the phone and immediately calls her mother to let her know there’s an emergency with Emma while the guys are on mission and she’s on her way over to drop off the kids for the weekend. A few minutes later she’s in her car and pushing the speed limit a little hard as she settles in for a long, emotional day.

*****

It takes a few minutes for Bravo to situate their chutes and kits then give the go ahead to take off. The teams are strapped into jump seats on the plane as it hurdles down the runway, lifting its incredible bulk airborne. They have little time to prepare to jump, as they’ll be dropping from low altitude and not far off the South Carolina shoreline. The plane gets to altitude and makes a wide turn to line up with the DZ; it’s not long before the cargo door opens and everyone rises and flips up their jump seats, standing by to deploy. The SWCC team gives thumbs up as the first stabilizing chute is released. A few moments later the first crated RHIB is released to a satisfying whoop from the team as they watch it flying out the back of the plane and the larger chutes pop open to control the decent into the ocean. A few seconds later it’s repeated as the second crated RHIB is sent flying out. Right behind the boats the SWCC team steps up to the edge and falls into the open abyss, their parachutes opening as they exit the plane. Bravo gives just a moment for the flight crew to do a chute count then follows right behind. Within twenty minutes of plunging into the water the RHIBs are set up and ready to go for the teams to settle onboard, split between the two boats. While they navigate through the foggy air the sun breaks over the horizon to send fingers of yellow sunlight to poke through the top of the fog and dance over the waves around them. The two RHIBs situate near each other as Bravo changes out their gear to be ready to covert swim.

“Havoc Base to Bravo: radio check,” Blackburn calls out over comms.

“This is Bravo 1: Hear you Lima Charlie. I pass Cast Away,” Jason replies.

“Bravo 1, I copy Cast Away.” Blackburn marks off the code for completed LVADS infil.

Lisa jumps on the horn. “The yacht is moving south, but it’s moving slow. I assume they’re not well-trained in navigating the fog. I’ve got ISR overhead; Tango 1 driving, Tango 2 on front cabin, Tangos 3 and 4 appear to be just chilling out, and Tango 5 appears to be with Hotel 2 in rear cabin.”

Jason grumbles for a moment before replying. “Copy last, Havoc.”

The SWCC team communicates with TOC and gets intercept coordinates then sets heading and speed, moving swiftly yet cutting quietly through the water. Since the yacht is moving slower than expected, they’ve got some ground to cover before they risk the sunlight breaking up the fog and exposing their approach. Bravo finishes switching out their gear and settles back, talking on comms to review their assault plan.

“All Bravo elements this is 1. Based on current, Bravo 2 is on overwatch. Take out any Tangos on deck or in the cabin to clear the way. 4 I want you focused getting to the Hotels and seeing what medical help they need. 5 and 6 I want you on lookout over the cabins until we breech those doors then fall in where needed. 3 I want your knuckle dragging ass on the port as I go starboard, clearing to the center. Keep your sights elevated as we don’t know how old the ship is and we don’t want to sink it any more than we want to risk hitting any of the women through the deck.” Jason knows this is going to be a tight op with little room for error. “Let’s dial in and get this done, brothers.”

“Quick and dirty, 1,” Ray says over comms as he smiles from his seat across from Jason. Bravo settles back and lets the SWCC team focus on getting them near the target.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finding the strength to act heroic isn't guaranteed in everyone or in every moment. Amber has been traded for Cymbre, so will Amber fight as hard as Cym did? Every Bravo mission has bumps and twists, so why would this time be any different?

The longer Cym lies on the floor, the more pain she’s in and the less hope she has. Thin shafts of light through the tiny windows have started to brighten the dark room they’re in and she looks around at the other women. None of them have any signs of trying to figure out a plan to get free and all still have their arms tied behind them. She sighs deeply, wondering how many more hits she can take while these women continue to wait for someone to take care of them. She’s already peed herself while being violently attacked and has lost consciousness on top of nearly dying from lack of oxygen to her brain. It makes her wonder why she’s sacrificing for them. She looks around the room, taking in her first glimpse of the space. There’s a rounded seat following the shape of the bow that’s just bigger than the size of a twin bed in width, a large shelf above flanked by tiny windows, and a small skylight that doubles as an escape hatch above that. There’s a cabinet to one side of the door and a cabinet and drawers under the bed. The group is stuffed tight in the small space and the air is heavy with a mix of fear and dirty, sweaty bodies; making her wonder if they’ve been allowed to use the bathroom while she’s been out there taking punishments.

“Are there any other women with the kidnappers, or are we all here,” Cymbre asks quietly.

“When they tossed you in here they took one woman,” is the response from over her head.

“Okay, we need to figure out some kind of plan. We can’t just sit around waiting for someone to find us and save us, as they have at least a shotgun and knives, but probably more weapons than that. All it would take is a quick hail of bullets and we’re all dead.” She looks around again and sees mostly frail bodies. “Can anyone swim really well?” They all shake their heads at her. “Has anyone tried to get their hands free or at least in front of them?” Her voice is dripping with annoyance as they shake their heads no again. “Is anyone willing to untie me, at least?” The women look among each other until one finally scoots forward and off the bed so she can sit next to Cymbre and try to free the bungee cords that are holding her forearms together, her thighs together, and both within a foot of each other. After a few minutes, Cym’s freed and focuses on using her teeth and saliva to wrench the flexcuffs down from around her wrists. Luckily they weren’t tight enough for the way she can collapse her hypermobile hands, so it doesn’t take much to loosen them enough to slip her hands free now that the kidnappers aren’t watching her. As the women around her watch, stunned, she stands and quietly rifles through the drawers and cupboards to see if there’s anything in them she can use. Unfortunately, they’re all empty. She sits at the edge of the bed, momentarily feeling the dizziness and exhaustion clambering over her again. Adrenaline, for all the awful problems it has caused her for most of her life, is the only thing keeping her alive and slightly functional right now, even though it’s got her head swimming with all the possible additional tortures they could have planned for her. Her pain needs to be an afterthought. Her fear needs to be ignored. The likelihood that she’s probably going to die on this boat needs to be accepted. She looks at the women again. “Anyone else want to get free of their bindings and help me?”

The other women look at each other then back at her. “They told us if we don’t fight we’ll eventually be released once the ransom is paid,” one of the women says.

“And you actually believe them?” Cymbre is dumbfounded by how gullible these women are. “Do you really believe that this yacht is going to turn around and take us back to D.C. for them to be arrested? No. They’re planning on selling us on the black market to whoever is going to pay the highest price. Any ransom they get is just extra money in the bank.” She sighs and rubs her hands on her neck and shoulders in a vain attempt to try to get her brain to think clearly. Looking at the women again she adds, “After they threw you down here and hoisted one of the small boats on the back they told me they were going to show me what I was going to experience the rest of my life. Then they beat and raped me.” As the women look on in horror Cym adds, “That’s what’s going to happen to all of us over and over again if we can’t find a way to stop them.”

*****

Blackburn, Davis, and Mandy are in the DEVGRU team room, watching the satellite and drone feeds closely. They estimate about another hour before Bravo can dive and get close to the yacht, so they’re monitoring for any changes onboard so they can update the team as necessary. There’s a quiet knock on the door and when no one enters Blackburn and Davis look at each other, questioning. Davis quickly moves to the door and opens it to find a seaman nervously saluting her from the other side. He hands her a folded piece of paper and waits until she dismisses him then closes the door before he walks away. She looks down to see it has her name on it.

Lisa opens the note and curses under her breath. As she walks back over by Eric and Mandy she crumples the paper in her hand. “Naima called and asked to have an urgent message passed to me. She’s on her way to New York City to help Emma. It’s not serious, but it’s not good. She wants Ray to call her the moment he’s available so he can help keep Jason calm when he finds out.”

Mandy speaks up. “Jason always wants all of the info so he can make the best decision, but we can’t tell him until the end of the mission. It’d screw with his focus.” She takes the piece of paper from Lisa’s hand and unfolds it. “I’m stuck waiting until they bring back the kidnappers so I can start questioning them. How about I give Naima a call to get more information and see if I need to call in some favors?” Eric and Lisa agree, and Mandy heads out of DEVGRU to see if there’s anything she can do to help Naima and Emma.

As Lisa moves back into position behind the monitors she sees that the people onboard have shifted positions. She looks at the satellite feed to see that the RHIBs are getting close. She jumps on the radio. “Havoc to Bravo 1: You’re about two klicks from target and they’ve slowed nearly to a stop.”

“Havoc this is 1: Copy your last. We’re Oscar Mike. Sitrep? Fog is dissipating so we have to move fast.”

“Copy Bravo 1. There’s movement on board. Suggest RHIBs slow until we know what they’re up to.” Lisa watches as a kidnapper moves into what appears to be the kitchen area and is soon joined by the driver. “Hold what you’ve got, Bravo 1.”

“Copy Havoc. Standing by to stand by.” Jason signals for the SWCC leader to slow the RHIBs as they approach the target. It won’t be long before they won’t be able to hide anymore and he’s itching to get on target.

Lisa watches closely as the two kidnappers are joined by the door guard. Their movements indicate a brief argument. Eric looks over her shoulder, his frustration as obvious as hers. Suddenly a message pops up on the laptop screen with a link to a new live video.

“Seems you Americans don’t feel enough motivation to fund the freeing of our hostages. So now you will watch what happens.” The masked kidnapper turns the video to the stern as he’s flanked by three others; they walk towards the back bedroom. They barge through the door to find one of the kidnappers on top of one of the hostages. Laughter breaks out as they bring the camera around to see she’s enjoying herself, moaning in pleasure as she pulls his face down to hers for a kiss.

Amber turns, sees the camera, and her face quickly changes to anger. “What the hell guys? You promised there’d be no video of me.” She pushes the guy off of her as she swings wildly at the camera.

“Say hello to the world, Amber Miller-Bates. You’re getting all the fame you ever wanted right now.” The kidnapper holding the camera takes a step back as she sits upright and swings for the camera again, her naked body in full view. There’s not a scratch on her.

Blackburn and Davis look at each other, shocked by this turn of events. He grabs the radio. “Havoc Base to Bravo 1: I call Apollo 13. I repeat: Apollo 13. Hold at distance.”

“Bravo 1 to Havoc Base: I copy Apollo 13. Interrogative: Whisky Tango Foxtrot.” Jason’s anger is clear in his voice. There’s little time to waste, so he can’t imagine what the holdup is. The SWCC team instantly slows the RHIBs to a stop and waits for further instructions. Jason looks towards Ray. “Abort? Are they fucking kidding me?”

Blackburn and Davis return their attention to the video being live streamed to the world as Amber Miller-Bates, a powerful senator’s daughter, starts to throw a bona fide temper tantrum as the laughter around her grows. Blackburn quickly runs out of DEVGRU to make some phone calls. This live stream needs to be shut down, immediately. Senator Miller is going to lose his mind when he sees this and Bravo team might get blamed for not being on target sooner.

“You promised if I gave you all the info and help you needed you’d let me look like the hero who saved the rest of the hostages when you let us go,” Amber screams as her naked body bounces around.

“And yet you totally believed me, didn’t you,” the kidnapper behind the camera says as he moves the camera in closer to her perfect breasts then pulls it back as she swipes her hand at him again. “You wanted fame and fortune. We just want bodies to sell.”

As Amber starts to realize what they mean her temper tantrum abates and fear drowns her anger. Fingers snap at the edge of the frame and the kidnapper who had been screwing her a moment earlier slaps her hard across the face, sending her backwards onto the bed. She looks back at them, her eyes and mouth wide in shock and horror. “Louis, you told me you loved me and promised I wouldn’t be hurt,” she says numbly as she looks to the naked kidnapper standing over her. More laughter surrounds her as three large male bodies descend over her, two holding her down as Louis returns to his task, this time with his hand over her mouth to silence her screams as he takes her more roughly.

The camera pans as a hand slides open several drawers near the bed, showing multiple handguns, AKs, and an assortment of knives, including a machete, which are removed and placed on the counter. The camera turns again to show the masked kidnapper’s eyes. “Pay up America or we’re going to flay these bitches alive.”

As the feed drops, Blackburn runs back into the room to see horror on Davis’ face. “They haven’t been able to shut down the source of the feed.” When she doesn’t respond he rushes up to the laptop and plays back the end of the video. “Holy hell.” He grabs the radio. “Havoc Base to all Bravo call signs: I call Forrest Gump. New intel coming.” He looks over to the list of mission codes and focuses at the code for changing the plan. That’s an understatement.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: extreme acts of violence
> 
> Bravo is so close to the yacht, but how does the new information about Amber change their attack plan? Kidnappers rarely forget when a hostage seems more trouble than they're worth, and Cymbre has been causing all kinds of trouble.
> 
> People are as sick as their secrets.
> 
> FYI: Most of the military, medical, and situational information in this story is accurate, real, and factual; however, in this chapter I made up the term "dock birds." While Haiti is really a very common first stop for trafficking victims before being sold around the world, the term itself is entirely fictional.

Cymbre can hear loud whooping and laughing from across the boat and it shocks her out of her dazed and sleepy state. She puts her ear to the door, trying to figure out what’s happening. There’s no way they’ve gotten to their destination, right? She hears footsteps coming closer and she turns to the other women. “They’re coming. We have to fight now or we have no chance,” she demands quietly as she prepares to launch herself towards whoever is about to open the door. She hears the scratch of metal on metal as the padlock is raised from the latch outside then the creak of the door handle being turned. The moment she sees space she pushes forward, screeching as she dives at the two bodies standing there. When arms get in her way she starts to claw at their skin, fighting with every ounce of strength she has left.

Unfortunately, it does little good. She’s just too weak to be effective and the few other hostages who half-heartedly tried to follow her are soon beaten back also. The scraping sound of metal on metal confirms Cym is once again alone with the kidnappers. She hears a scream and laughing grunts from the rear cabin as her limbs go numb from the effort and multiple dislocations. A chuckle reaches her ear as she briefly resigns to the hands cranking her arms underneath her and her legs pulled taught in front of her by Renel, holding her body suspended above the floor.

“Josue!” The kidnapper behind her calls out and a moment later a body appears in the doorway of the rear cabin. “Stop leering at Louis and Evens. It’s their turn with Amber. I need you here.” Josue, who’d violated her mouth just hours before, comes closer and Cym’s arms are handed over to him as she tries to fight and fails again.

“What are you going to do with this one, Wilner?” Renel, who’d attacked her alongside Josue, is yanking at her wriggling ankles as he looks to the leader. “She’s been trouble this whole time and we really should be moving instead of sitting here.”

Wilner pulls off the mask he’d left on after filming the video of Amber, tossing it onto the counter behind him. He looks around outside at the fog that’s still enveloping the yacht. “We’re good in this fog. No one will see us.” He turns his attention back to Cymbre. “I’ve seen enough of the rest of you getting your kicks. No one is going to miss this rancid, troublesome animal so I’m taking her up top.” The other captors pause, flashing knowing looks at each other. Part of Wilner’s fees has always been that he gets to pick one of the women to torture to death before they deliver the rest to the sellers. He’s known to be sadistic and what remains of the bodies look like a monstrous beast ripped them apart, but no one has ever witnessed what exactly he does to them. They nod their heads towards him in silent acknowledgement of his claim over this victim.

Cym starts to panic. The look on the face of the attacker holding her legs in front of her chills her to the core and she can’t image what’s about to happen. She tries to kick her legs again and pull with her arms, but they’re holding her too tightly for her weak and overwhelmingly painful body to overcome. “You’re going to rot in hell, you god damn psychopaths,” she hisses.

Wilner suddenly steps into her sight, holding a large butcher knife. He traces the tip of the sharp blade against her skin. Tiny cuts form on her abdomen underneath the blade, leaving echoing trails of blood to seep up in its wake. “Silence is a choice; as much as I like a fight you’ll live longer if you’re silent.” Unable to understand quite what he means, Cym presses her lips together tightly, watching the knife tickle along her skin again. When he stops, he turns and grabs the bungee cords and extra flexcuffs. “Take this thing up top where I can have my pleasure in peace,” he growls.

The goons carry her by her wrists and ankles out on the deck. It’s a struggle, but they manage to haul her past the strapped down lifeboat and up the stairs to the upper deck. Having all her weight pulling down is causing multiple joints to dislocate painfully, but she chokes back the need to yell at the pain. They plop her down on a table just off the middle of the space, in front of the couch that lines the edge. They quickly splay her arms and legs, pressing down on them so she’s unable to move. A moment later she hears heavy footsteps as Wilner joins. Silently he uses a flexcuff to bind her wrists together under the table and inside one of two table legs. He uses another flexcuff around her ankles inside the other leg of the table, making it impossible for her to move her arms or legs farther than a foot to either side. No opportunity to get loose or get her hands in front of her this time, she resigns to her fate and stops fighting. The goons linger, wondering what their boss is going to do, but he quickly waves them off; thumping steps retreat before the door below closes. He takes a bungee cord and hooks it into one of the holes that are evenly spaced throughout the top of the table, then wraps it twice tightly around her lower chest and hooks it in on the other side to keep her from moving.

Cymbre is biting into her lip so hard she can taste blood sliding down her silent tongue. Tears are flowing past her closed lids, down her temples, and into her hair, again. The salty sea air is bathing into the fresh wounds and tiny pricks of pain are left in the wake of every shiver of her naked skin in the icy expanse. A hand slides along her bruised cheek, turning her face towards him. She hears a zipper slide open and cloth hitting the deck. She squeezes her eyes closed tighter.

Wilner’s sickly hot breath bathes her ear as he leans close and whispers, “When I was a child I was kidnapped from my home. I was beaten and enslaved. I was tortured.” He pauses to take a breath. “I survived the dock birds. When I got older I earned my freedom by becoming that which I had once feared.” He pauses again as he kneels on the deck and grabs her hands. “They mutilated me to ensure my subjugation and loyalty as a child, so now I find new ways to feed my desires.” As he speaks he pulls her hands to his crotch; his dick had been cut down to a stump and the nearby skin is covered in scars. The revelation shocks her and she opens her eyes in reflex. “This is my secret and I share it so you may take it with you into the afterlife.” Her eyes snap shut again as he stands.

The squeak of a sharp metal edge dragging against flat metal fills her ears as the knife is drawn along the leg of the table next to her calves. She can feel Wilner stand and move to the couch, where he sits and leans over her. The smooth, flat side of the blade pushes along the earlier cuts, spreading her blood out along her skin. It twists and changes directions, slicing her skin again as she reflexively jumps at the pain. Again and again he traces the blade along her skin, occasionally cutting deeper as she feels her warm blood slowly pooling then dripping down her sides. Fear has her tight in its grasp until her mind dissociates from the moment. Her arms and legs go numb as her mind buries deep into blissful dark nothingness to try to escape. Suddenly the blade changes angles to plunge into her abdomen and she can’t help but blindly scream at the pain as her body jerks hard against the restraints. Her eyes flash open and for a split second she sees Wilner holding his stump of a dick in his hand as he slowly pulls the blade from her abdomen then buries it deep again. Unable to move and with the pain overtaking her senses she can’t coordinate her thoughts anymore. Blood quickly bubbles up from the wound around the blade as her eyesight goes dark and unconsciousness falls over her.

*****

“Havoc Base I repeat: Interrogative: Whisky. Tango. Foxtrot.” Jason pushes harder, trying to find out why they’re threatening to abort the mission then changing the plan.

Blackburn and Davis are glued to the video from the drone, trying to separate who’s a target and who’s a hostage. Both are still trying to process the earlier video of Amber, as well as trying to make out what’s happening in the upper deck.

Eric turns his gaze to the satellite feed that shows the RHIBs about 1 klick to the south of the yacht and holding, and grabs the radio. “Havoc Base to Bravo 1: New intel. Video shows Hotel 2 as co-conspirator turned victim.”

“Repeat your last Havoc,” Jason replies as he gives Ray a confused look.

“Bravo 1, Amber went willingly, but they’ve turned on her,” Eric says.

Jason huffs. “Havoc are we standing down or Charlie Mike? Cover is lifting.”

Eric looks at Lisa and hands her the radio. “Talk them in.”

Lisa takes a deep breath and focuses back on the drone’s feed. She needs to dial it in or this op is going to go all kinds of sideways. “Bravo 1 this is Havoc. You’re inside 1 klick from target. Ready to swim?”

Jason looks to the other RHIB and sees three teammates with their thumbs in the air. He looks to Ray and Sonny next to him who are also thumbs-up. “A-firm Havoc. Current Tango and Hotel positions?”

“1 we show Tangos 4 and 5 in rear cabin busy with co-conspirator, Tango 2 guarding front cabin door, Tango 3 standing in center living on lookout, Tango 1 busy with hostage in upper deck,” Lisa informs them. “How copy?”

“Good copy Havoc. 1 out.” Jason turns and sends a thumbs-up to Clay, Brock, and Trent, sending them overboard. A moment later, he and Sonny join them.

“Havoc this is Bravo 2: I pass Splash,” Ray informs.

“Havoc copies Splash,” Lisa replies as Eric marks that swimmers are in the water.

Ray lifts his rifle and looks through the scope. The fog is still thick enough he can only make out the shape of the yacht, but he needs to be ready. They’re not boarding until he takes out anyone who might spot them. He turns and nods to the SWCC Senior Chief who radios for the other RHIB to fall back then settles next to Ray to call wind and distance for the sniper as the boat moves forward to bring them within the 800 meter kill range of Ray’s M110 rifle.

*****

It takes 15 minutes for Bravo to reach the diving platform off the back of the yacht. They surface slowly, leading with their rifles. The lifeboat is blocking the view from the upper deck, so they’ve been able to approach undetected. They remove their swim fins and goggles while still in the water, knowing they won’t have much time on board before someone sees them.

Quietly Jason keys his radio. “Havoc this is 1: I pass Joe Vs Volcano. Sitrep.”

“Copy Bravo 1,” Lisa says as she sees them on the drone footage. “Tangos steady.”

“1 this is 2. Fog clearing. Set at 750 meters.” Ray has been able to catch a glimpse of one kidnapper standing in the middle of the living space, but the one in the upper deck has only shown the top of his head for a few seconds at a time. “Tango 1 out of visual. Can target Tango 3 any time.”

Lisa moves the drone trying to get a better view of the attacker in the upper deck. “All Bravo be advised: Tango 1 in upper deck is focused on Hotel 1. Clear to board.”

Bravo slowly pulls themselves out of the water two at a time, the water quietly cascading off their gear for a few seconds before they climb over the stern and crouch down low. Brock and Jason lead, pointing their weapons up the port and starboard sides. Sonny and Trent follow, pointing towards the upper deck. Clay boards last, doing one last scan of the horizon before focusing forward.

“Havoc, 1: I call Captain Phillips. 2 on you,” Jason whispers.

“This is 2. I have control. Stand by,” Ray says as he focuses back on his scope, waiting for Tango 1 to raise his head.

Lisa watches from the drone’s new vantage point as the attacker sits back and reveals blood pooling on the hostage’s abdomen. He sets aside his knife and pulls out a hand gun from a storage bin under the seat next to him. “All Bravo: Tango 1 in upper deck has gun. Hotel 1 won’t last,” Lisa radios.

“On my shot,” Ray calls as he checks Tango 3’s position one more time then sets his sights back on Tango 1.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: graphic depictions of violence
> 
> It's taken a few hours for Bravo to get to the yacht, giving time for Amber to be exposed and Cymbre to be stabbed and bleeding out. Can they take out the kidnappers and save Cymbre before it's too late?

A shot rings out overhead, causing the Bravo team members on board the yacht to duck their heads tighter. Another shot rings out. They hold, waiting for confirmation to move. Shot. Shot. It’s too close and too loud for it to have been Ray’s sniper rifle; he also wouldn’t need 4 shots to take out 2 Tangos.

Lisa looks closely at the drone video to see Tango 1 shooting randomly out to sea. “All Bravo, hold,” she calls over the radio, then says aside to Eric, “What the hell did he just shoot at?”

Blackburn turns his focus to the satellite feed. “There’s nothing out there.” By the time he looks back at the drone footage the motive becomes clearer.

Cymbre startles awake from the deafening pops near her head and fights back into consciousness. She forces her eyes open and turns her head to see a handgun being aimed back at her. She tenses, causing the blood to flow faster from the stab wound in her abdomen. Gasping for breath through the pain, she watches as he sets the barrel of the gun against the hole in her skin, the heat searing into her flesh. Her scream is weak yet clear as he pushes the muzzle inside her damaged body and removes it, in and out, several times in quick succession.

“I told you to stay silent,” Wilner sneers as he removes the muzzle and gleefully smiles at the blood that drips from it. “Now you will die in the worst way I know,” he threatens as he turns his head, lowers the weapon towards her legs, and twists his wrist to face it back up the length of her body. “Do you know how much damage a bullet can do when fired from inside the body?”

Lisa’s hand grips the radio hard. “Havoc to 1, get Tango 1’s attention now or Hotel 1 is dead.”

Jason looks up towards the top deck; trusting his team he lets out a quick whistle.

Ray sees Tango 1’s head lift at the sound and he fires off a round, hitting Wilner square between the eyes. He instantly drops the scope and aims for Tango 3 through the cabin glass, dropping Renel beside the table where he’d violated Cymbre just hours before.

As Jason sees Tango 1’s head flip back then forwards and drop out of sight, he whispers to his team, “Execute, execute, execute.” By the time Tango 3 drops the five members of Bravo on board are moving with precision.

Brock pushes forward up the port side then dives to his belly to get a view on the hostages in the front cabin through the low window. Sonny and Jason come around each side, aiming inside the living space in the center. Trent follows Sonny along the port side then heads up the stairs to the top deck. Clay follows Jason along the starboard side and kneels to look in the windows of the rear cabin. Sonny gets an eye on the guard outside the front cabin as he and Jason plow through the doorways simultaneously, while Jason turns and gets an eye on the open doorway into the rear cabin. Clay radios that there are 2 Tangos and 1 Hotel in the rear cabin. Amber screams as Evens’ hand comes off her mouth and he pulls himself from her. Louis, still naked as he holds her down for Evens after having finished his turn with her, tries to reach for the pistol on the counter just out of his reach, but Jason shoots a bullet through his forearm. Evens dives forward trying to reach the weapons cache, but Jason lands a stem shot, dropping him instantly. As Trent makes it up the stairs he sees Wilner’s head lying on Cymbre’s bloody abdomen and the muzzle of his handgun stuck inside the most vulnerable of places on her body, his finger still on the trigger. Fighting back bile from the image, he gently removes the gun and tosses it to the side then dumps Wilner’s body back onto the couch before kneeling in the open space next to the table. Clay reports Tangos down then rushes up to respond to Trent’s call for help. Sonny’s voice rings throughout the space as he demands the guard put his hands in the air and drop to his knees. When he gets close enough, Sonny throws Josue forward so his face slams into the stairs then cuffs his hands behind his back; he then drags the kidnapper sideways into the nearby half bathroom to plop on the floor as the kidnapper’s broken nose leaves stars in his eyes. Jason pushes down into the rear cabin as Amber slides off the bed and onto the floor, leaving Louis on the bed clutching the wound in his forearm. Jason quickly flips the naked kidnapper over and cuffs his hands behind his back and his ankles together, then checks to make sure the wound in his forearm is a through-and-through and not likely to bleed him out in the next few minutes. Brock reports no Tangos in the front cabin and joins Sonny as he removes the unlocked padlock to enter the room as a cacophony of women’s startled screams rise to greet them. Jason bends down and tells Amber to get on her belly; he knows she was working with them. She turns over as she sobs that she didn’t know this was going to happen, but lets him flexcuff her with no fight yet a lot of crying. Trent looks down into Cymbre’s eyes as she stares upwards, her gaze unfocused and distant. He checks her pulse to find it weak and thready as her breathing is so shallow her chest is barely moving. He drops his kit and rips it open as Clay comes up to join him. As Trent is figuring out where to start to save Cymbre’s life, a chorus sounds over the radio.

Jason says, “Rear cabin clear.”

Sonny says, “Front cabin clear.”

Clay says, “Top deck clear.”

Jason calls over the radio, “Havoc this is 1, I pass Sleepless in Seattle.”

Ray jumps on comms. “This is 2: RHIBs coming to you, 1.”

Sonny turns to the 10 women huddled in their bras and underwear in front of him. His voice is softer than normal as he says, “We’re the US Military and we’ve come to take you home.” The women slowly start to turn their faces up towards him. He takes a knee in front of two women on the floor and holds out his hands. “Ready to get out of here?” As he helps each stand, he hands them over to Brock who helps the hostages up the stairs and into the living space. They congregate as their squeaking whimpers turn to teeth chattering in the chilly mid-morning air. As the last woman emerges, Josue jumps forward towards Sonny, who throws out his elbow and hits the kidnapper square in the nose again, sending him falling back into the bathroom. Without missing a beat, Sonny closes the door and says, “Don’t forget to flush, shithead.”

After clipping their flexcuffs, Brock drops his kit and reaches inside, pulling out mylar blankets as Sonny joins and does the same. They quickly unfold the blankets and wrap them around each woman, looking at their faces as they search for Cymbre and Amber. One of the women looks up at Brock as he wraps the blanket around her, tears falling down her cheeks. “You’re okay now. We’ve got you,” he says quietly as she falls against him. He puts his arms around her for a moment as he takes a breath. No Cymbre. No Amber. Steadying her back on her feet, he keys his radio. “1 this is 5, 10 hostages safe.”

Trent is struggling to try to get Cymbre’s bleeding under control. The surface cuts have been bleeding for awhile and nearly hid the deep stab wound. Clay’s trying to help, but it’s not looking good. “Get me the XStat,” Trent says, sending Clay digging in the med bag for the large injector full of tiny sponges. As Trent pushes the injector inside the wound, Cym cries out quietly, turning her head away from them. “Clay, c-collar.” Clay grabs the collar and moves around Trent, sitting on a seat by her head. He slowly and carefully straightens her neck, but Trent stops him before he puts it on. “Damn it, she needs a FAST1 first.” Clay gently places her head back down and grabs the sternal IO from the med kit, setting it near Trent before cautiously taking her head in his hands so she can’t move her neck again.

Clay looks down and sees her unfocused stare. “Trent, her eyes are wobbling back and forth.”

Trent pauses and looks up at her eyes, just barely able to see the nystagmus from where he sits. “Fuck. That’s brainstem.” He sighs heavily. “Keep her neck straight and don’t let it shift.”

Jason pulls Amber up from the rear cabin and grabs one of the blankets to put around her. “Sit,” he orders as he points to one of the chairs. He looks to Sonny and Brock. “Cymbre?” They shake their heads no. He keys his radio and asks, “Bravo 1 to 4: Do you have Cymbre?”

Clay responds to the call. “1 this is 6: We have Cymbre. She’s in bad shape.”

“Get Jason up here. I need her loose from this table and you need to keep her neck straight.” Trent is holding gauze to the wound as the sponges fill in the large hole in her abdomen, but he can’t wrap her up and prep her to move until her bindings are released.

“6 to 1: We need more hands,” Clay radios then gently holds Cymbre’s head steady as she coughs lightly. Trent shifts his weight to press his left hand hard against the wound on her abdomen as he uses his right to wipe down the skin nearby, looking for other sources of major blood loss. As he does, Cymbre groans and briefly opens her eyes looking up at Clay. “You’re going to be okay,” he says quietly. “We’re US Military. We’re going to patch you up and get you back to shore soon.” She tries to say something, but a small spray of blood is all that comes out, drops landing on her face and slowly sliding down like tears. “Don’t try to talk. Save your strength,” he says as he looks over at Trent.

“Copy 6. Coming to you,” Jason says as he heads out the port side door. Just then, the first RHIB pulls up and Ray jumps across. “Get the hostages in that RHIB. Take that traitor Amber with.” He jumps back on the radio. “All Bravo elements: Once the hostages are on board the first RHIB I want everyone ready to get Cymbre down with us into the second.” Jason runs around to the stern to grab the spine board from the SWCC Senior Chief and quickly hauls it up top. “Where do you need me,” he asks as he sets it on the floor of the upper deck.

“Get these restraints off her. I can’t wrap her abdomen until I can get her off this table.” Trent hasn’t found any other penetrating stab wounds, but she won’t stop bleeding. He mumbles, “Can’t get the FAST1 on her until I get her abdomen wrapped. Can’t get the c-collar on her until the FAST1 is in.” Trent’s obviously frustrated as the bleeding won’t stop flowing and obscuring the skin around her abdomen from his searches.

Jason shoves Wilner’s dead body off the couch across from Trent then sits. He pulls out his MK3 knife and bends down, trying to get a view of her hands as he slices the flexcuffs loose. He shifts and does the same from around her ankles. He then reaches down and slowly pulls the bungee cord loose. “Watch it,” he says as he lets out the tension before dropping it aside.

“Okay, you need to lift her so I can wrap around her and keep this bandage in place. She’s not clotting well so it needs to be tight.” Trent pulls out wrap from the med kit as Jason stands and bends down to carefully lift her hips about two inches. “Good. Hold her steady.” He quickly turns towards Clay. “Don’t let her neck move. There’s already about 5 things that can kill her before we can get her to shore, but if her neck goes all the rest is pointless.” He focuses back on wrapping her mid-section tightly so Jason can set her back down. Once that’s done, he points at the sternal IO next to him. “Jason, get on the FAST1. She needs blood and saline to get her volume back up, otherwise the moment we try to get her down from here she’s going to lose oxygen to her brain.” As Jason hooks up the sternal IO, Trent looks under the table to see a second smaller puddle of blood on the floor below her hips that’s drained through the holes in the table. “I don’t know how she’s still alive,” he says under his breath as he moves further down, grabbing another XStat and injecting it into where the gun’s muzzle had torn and burned extremely delicate tissues. Unsure if it’s the pain of Jason placing the FAST1 or the terror of him having to inject small sponges into an incredibly vulnerable area so recently violently abused, Trent winces slightly as she cries out. Her body reflexively begins to shake as she weakly tries to push and kick the three men away for a few seconds until her movements slow and her limbs collapse back down.

Jason finishes hooking up the FAST1. “Trent, get the bags going.”

Trent shifts positions and pulls out a bag of saline and one of O-negative blood, hooking them up in succession. As much as she needs blood, if they don’t raise her volume at the same time she’s going to lose brain function. He hands the bags to Jason to hold then turns his attention to Clay. “Okay, where’s the c-collar?” Clay nods towards his side and Trent bends over to grab it then gently eases it onto her neck as Clay holds her head steady.

As the fluids push in her eyes slowly open. She scratches at the collar around her neck and pulls her legs up on the table, trying in vain to free herself. She starts to cough, causing gurgling in her throat. The three guys gently roll her onto her side to let a small amount of blood spill past her lips before settling her on her back again as her eyes roll back in her head.

“Trent, can we move her,” Jason asks. They need to get these women back to shore, get the targets back for questioning, and the longer Cymbre is outside of a trauma bay the less chance she has. The sponges in her abdomen will only help for so long and depending what organs were hit she could quickly go septic or continue to bleed out.

“I don’t know,” Trent replies, obviously frustrated. He’s used to working on healthy soldiers, not on someone this medically fragile. He jumps on the horn. “Bravo 4 to Havoc, read off Cymbre’s conditions to me. I’m missing something.”

“Bravo 4 be advised I might butcher some of these terms: Ehlers Danlos syndrome, cranio-cervical instability, mast cell activation syndrome, hypothalamic dysregulation, orthstatic hypotension, dysautonomia, hyperadrenergic postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome, reactive hypoglycemia,” Lisa reads haltingly.

“That’s it.” He keys his radio and cuts her off before she makes it halfway through the list. “Copy Havoc, that’s enough.” He digs into his med kit and pulls out a syringe then pulls out several bottles of medications, reading the labels until he finds the right two. He measures out one then transfers the needle to the second, adding the liquid to the first. Quietly he says, to no one in particular, “She’s being flooded with massive amounts of adrenaline, so she needs atenolol to slow her adrenal response then glucose to stabilize her blood sugar and keep her brain from shutting down.” He injects the contents of the syringe into the line carrying the other fluids then sits back and waits to see if there’s a change.

“Trent?” Jason looks at his medic critically, wondering if it’s already too late.

“Give it a minute to work,” Trent replies forcefully. He checks her pulse and feels it’s still way too high. He pulls out a pack of smelling salts and holds it under her nose.

Jason stands and looks out over the stern as he holds the saline and blood bags. The hostages are loaded on the RHIB and the SWCC team is handing out thicker blankets to wrap around the group as they huddle into the fixed seats in the back. He calls out, “Load the Tangos in the second RHIB and make sure they’re tied down. I’m not putting up with any trouble from them.” Sonny gives a thumbs up as he and Brock duck back in and gather the two surviving kidnappers. They blindfold the pair for good measure, taking no cautions as they roughly drag them out to the RHIB. Once they’re done, Brock returns to the yacht to grab photos of the dead kidnappers to send to TOC then gets ready to help haul Cymbre.

Cym takes a sharp, deep breath as her eyes shoot open. Her hands begin to flail as she briefly catches sight of the three large men around her. Jason and Trent each grab a hand, holding them close to their chests. Clay puts his hands on her cheeks, pulling her attention up at him. She blinks a few times rapidly then her eyes meet his. The haunting turquoise blue of his eyes catches her attention and she calms a little. She can see his mouth moving, but her ears are ringing and the sound of his voice is too hollow and distant for her to understand. She tries to move her arms, opening and closing her hands against whatever is holding them in place, but the bindings won’t budge. She tries to move her head, but the brace around her neck is preventing that. Suddenly her left hand is turned and set against something. Her fingers trace along the slightly raised lines of the stars and stripes; it’s the American flag. As she processes this, tears begin to fall anew and she tightly squeezes the hands of the soldiers holding on to her. “Help,” she squeaks.

“Havoc this is 1: I pass Sully.” Jason’s glad to be able to announce that all the hostages are alive and safe, even if Cymbre isn’t even close to out-of-the-woods.

“Let’s load and go,” Trent says as he reaches behind him to grab the spine board. Clay and Jason gently roll her to the side again so Trent can slide it underneath her. Clay pulls out a mylar blanket from the med kit and quickly unfolds it so he and Jason can drape it over her, then pulls the straps on the spine board over to secure her and the blanket in place. It’s going to be a long ride back to shore and the rising mid-morning sun doesn’t have the air warm enough to do her any good. Trent checks the straps as Jason calls down to the rest of Bravo to come help get her down to the RHIB. In the moments while they wait, Jason pulls out his phone and grabs photos of the kidnapper lying on the floor next to him.

A few cautious minutes later and Cym is covered with a second warmer blanket and settled on the floor at the front of the second RHIB. Trent, Clay, and Jason surround her, each kneeling on the edge of the spine board so it doesn’t move. She looks up and sees the same haunting turquoise eyes smiling down at her. She mouths ‘thank you’ to Clay as her eyes slowly close. The powerful engines are engaged slowly and moderately, trying to keep the RHIB as steady as possible as it flies across the calm ocean surface.

Jason takes a shaky, deep breath as he looks down at Cymbre. For a second he sees Emma’s face instead, but he closes his eyes and pushes the image away. He slowly reaches under the blankets and slips his hand into hers, giving it a gentle squeeze, checking to see if she’s still with them. A few seconds later he feels a tiny squeeze back. “Havoc this is 1: I call You’ve Got Mail. Inform the Coast Guard we’re heading to their station at Wrightsville Beach, North Carolina. Let them know they can tow that nightmare yacht back to shore whenever they’ve got some free time.”

“I copy Bravo 1,” Lisa says then takes a deep breath. “Havoc out.” She sets the radio aside and pulls the drone off target to bring it home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every diagnosis mentioned is one I've been diagnosed with (and a whole lot more), and several are commonly co-morbid in EDS patients. When you have to learn to deal with the uncertainty of having diagnoses like these it strangely makes it easier to survive things like lack of oxygen/glucose/blood to the brain, going weeks or years without enough food, and more. As they say in BUD/S, "Embrace the suck." When you can accept that nothing in your body will work correctly, you can learn to function during those pockets of time when your body tries to work a little better.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bravo saves the day, yet Cymbre isn't out-of-the-woods yet. Trauma like what she's endured lingers and how a body and a mind react to overwhelmingly violent trauma rarely makes sense to anyone else.
> 
> It takes 4 hours to drive from Virginia Beach to New York City. How's Emma doing? What state will Naima find her in? What's Jason going to do when he finds out?
> 
> BTW, did you notice the Easter eggs in the last few chapters? Hint: Why would they use those mission codes?

Naima is close to the Tisch campus when her phone rings. She’s already spoken with Mandy and gave her a brief synopsis, letting her know this is nothing life-threatening, but is something that’s going to send Jason sky-high. Mandy promised to have Blackburn keep Jason busy in an AAR if the mission is complete before Naima can get Emma settled and ready to tell her dad. Naima looks at the caller ID and sees it’s Emma. She slows for a stoplight as she answers the phone. “Emma, honey, I’m just a few minutes away. You okay?”

Emma’s voice is calmer than it was a few hours ago, but still obviously tense and stressed. “Yeah. My friend came and took me to the medical center on campus. The cops were called and I gave a statement.”

Naima takes a deep breath. “Where do you want me to meet you?”

“They brought me in to the police station,” Emma’s voice catches for a moment. “I think I might be in trouble for hurting the guy.”

“Emma, don’t say anything else. I’ll find out what’s happening when I get there and if I need to I’ll make some phone calls. You’re not going to be in trouble for protecting yourself.” The light turns green and Naima pulls over to the curb to search for the address. “I’ll be there in a few minutes, okay? Just stay calm.”

“Okay.” Emma’s reply is quiet and unsure. “Thank you.”

Naima’s blood is boiling as she hangs up, finds the address, and starts the GPS. Either they’re going to answer to her or they’re going to hate it when they have to answer to Jason and anyone else on the team who can pull a few favors. They’re not getting away with punishing Emma for protecting herself from some lowlife scum.

*****

There’s total silence in the RHIBs as they race towards the shoreline near the Coast Guard Station at Wrightsville Beach. Each person; survivor, kidnapper, and team member; has a heavy several hours to process. A few times Clay, Trent, and Jason have made Cymbre open her eyes or move something to ensure she’s still hanging on and still has blood flow to her legs. Brock and Ray are on the second RHIB with the other women, helping to keep them calm during the trip to shore. Sonny’s assigned to watch the kidnappers, though with them duct taped to the seats they aren’t much trouble. He’s enjoying making some very specific threats about what he’ll do to them if they speak or move, though. It feels like the ride lasts for hours as they wait with bated breath to find out if the woman who against all odds single-handedly took down a kidnapper then sacrificed herself to save others will survive. It has crossed more than one mind that her courage despite severe medical challenges isn’t entirely dissimilar than the courage it takes to go through BUD/S with a healthy body.

When they hit land Trent jumps in the ambulance with Cymbre so he can talk with the doctors about what he did to keep her alive; Lisa has already called ahead and forwarded on medical information so they know the challenges that lie ahead in treating her. Sonny and Jason grab the kidnappers and settle them not so gently in a room where Sonny continues to watch them like a hawk. The rest of the team then unloads the women and escorts them into a nearby building to get warm, put on some clothing, and get a warm meal. Soon Mandy joins them, having been flown down in a helicopter to help escort the kidnappers and Amber back for questioning. The C130 that had dropped them off is waiting at the nearby Wilmington airport to bring the teams and gear back to Virginia Beach.

Mandy speaks with the hostages and finds none of them have any useful information to give her. Mostly they ask about getting medical care, getting back home, and about the two who are missing. Mandy hands them off to the FBI when they show up, letting her counterparts deal with the logistics from there. The kidnappers and Amber are the three she really wants to get at. She can talk to Cymbre in a few days once she’s stitched back together and alert in the ICU. When she comes face to face with Jason she pauses, debating when to tell him about Emma; she hasn’t heard from Naima yet, so she bites her tongue instead. Jason updates her about what happened with Amber, so she settles in to an only mildly hostile opening discussion with her while all the gear is packed and prepared to be hauled back to Virginia Beach. While Bravo team waits to head for the airport they find a quiet conference room to chill out or lie down on whatever flat surface they can find for a quick nap. It’s been a long night.

*****

Emma lays her head on her crossed arms on the desk in front of her. She’s been here for over an hour waiting to find out what’s happening. While she’s not in a cell or an interrogation room, the conference room feels scary enough when you’ve been told not to step out of it. She’s upset and she wishes her dad could just come and fix it all for her. She wonders how the mission is going and what’s going to happen when he finds out about what happened last night, especially that she didn’t tell him right away. When the door swings open Naima is there, ready to pull her into a hug.

“Let’s go sweetie.” Naima leaves her arm around Emma’s shoulders as they walk towards the door. A male cop steps in front of their path trying to stop them, but Naima shuts him down. “Do you really think you can make the case that she fought him for no reason?”

The cop looks Naima over then straightens tall, trying to intimidate her. “He’s got bruising across his chest and abdomen from where she kicked him. The most she has is a little mark on her cheek,” he says as he points dismissively towards her.

Naima huffs and looks the cop dead in the eyes. “If you think you’re going to intimidate me you’ve got another thing coming. Trust me; if you want to play dirty then you’re going to be introduced to both her father and my husband, as well as a few very important people who will have no problem telling you how wrong you are.”

“Is that a threat,” the cop asks, sneering at her.

“No. It’s the truth. Now either show me proof that she wasn’t defending herself or I’m going to get a couple of JAG lawyers on the phone who owe some favors and have them come take a look at your evidence.” Naima is fuming. Emma might not be her child, but she’s damn well going to protect her like she is.

The cop chuckles. “We have video of this so-called attack. All he did was try to give her a drink and show her a good time.”

Emma, strengthened by Naima’s defiance, steps up. “He tried to drug me and drag me into a room while his buddies chanted ‘No means yes!’”

“That’s just boys being boys,” the cop mocks.

“No, that’s attempted rape and violent threats. That’s not how boys or men should behave,” Naima counters.

The cop looks Emma up and down, a leering smile crossing his lips as he takes in her young beauty with a creepy look of pleasure. “We’ve all done it a time or two, though.”

Naima pulls out her phone and calls Mandy, loudly telling her what’s happening. Mandy says she’ll put in a call and to hold tight. Naima looks at her watch, looks at Emma and gently brushes her hair off her face, and then stares back at the cop. Ten awkward minutes later the police chief comes storming into the room.

“What the hell is going on? I just got a call from the governor saying that one of my officers just threatened the daughter of a distinguished military hero after she had to defend herself from an attacker.” The police chief stares down his officer, who cowers slightly in response.

“That’s not what happened, sir,” the officer says stubbornly.

“Actually, you did,” Emma says as she pulls out her phone. She stops recording and plays back the conversation they just had. When the cop reaches for the phone she pulls it away and adds, “New York is a one-party consent state for recording conversations.” Naima pulls her a little closer, proud of her foresight. “You also said you have video of the attack. Maybe you should show it to us.”

The cop grumbles then walks to his computer with the other three trailing him. He pulls up the video and it clearly shows the whole thing was a malicious prank the boys were pulling as they laugh and hand the guy a pill to drop in Emma’s drink then cheer him on as he tries dragging her forcefully into the bedroom. “This isn’t a big deal,” the cop defends to his boss.

“The hell it isn’t,” the police chief roars. “You’re on suspension, pending a formal hearing.” He turns to Emma. “Keep that recording safe. I may need it from you later.” He turns back to his officer. “Any officer who blatantly disregards an assault like this isn’t going to stay on my force for long. Get the hell out of my face.” He turns back to Naima and Emma, his voice quieting. “My apologies ladies for how you’ve been treated today.” He looks closer at the bruise on Emma’s cheek. “Are you filing a report against the guy who did that?”

Emma shakes her head yes. “I already did.”

“Good. I’ll personally be in touch with you soon about the case.” The police chief nods politely and walks back to his office.

Emma turns and wraps her arms around Naima, who hugs her right back. “Thanks.” She takes a deep breath. “Has anyone told dad, yet?”

“No. I’m going to take you back with me and on the way we’ll call Mandy to thank her for the quick response then see what the ETA is on Bravo’s return home.” They turn and leave the station, head for Emma’s dorm to pack some things so she can stay at home for a few days, and start towards Virginia Beach. On the way they leave voicemails for Mandy and Lisa, letting them know where things stand.

*****

Only thin shafts of sunlight are reflecting off surfaces outside when Cymbre wakes and finds herself in a desolate and dark room. Her entire body feels broken and shredded. Every breath is a struggle and every small movement feels like agony. Silent tears start to flow unabashedly from the excruciating pain. When a door opens, spilling light into the dark room, she starts to shake then holds her breath to try to stay silent. She must stay silent. She closes her eyes and begs her body to be still; hoping whoever it is will believe she’s still unconscious.

“Are you awake,” a soft female voice inquires from above her. Cymbre doesn’t respond. She can’t fight anymore. She’s given all she had already. A cool hand gently brushes a few strands of hair from her face. “Your vitals say you’re awake. Can you open your eyes and tell me your name,” the soft voice requests. Cym stays silent, even as tears continue to drop slowly down her temples. “That’s okay. I hear you went through a lot before you got here. Don’t worry; we’ll take good care of you.” That cool hand rests gently over Cymbre’s for a moment before footsteps retreat and the door is closed again.

Cym slowly opens her eyes, hoping she’s alone. The brace is still on her neck so she can only look straight above her. A thin slice of a prism is shining through the window and she stares at it, trying to keep from remembering the last day… or is it two? Flashes of memories jump forward at her, recent and distant past incidents mingling in a party of terrible in her mind, and she starts to panic. A moment later the image of a pair of haunting turquoise eyes floods into her mind and her breath catches. She doesn’t know who it is or where she saw them, but she knows that’s the only person she can trust.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mandy's got her targets to interrogate. Bravo, Naima, and Emma are getting ready to head back to Virginia Beach. Cymbre is lost in a world of fear and unknown hospital staff. Between Mandy, Cymbre, and Jason, who's going to hold it together and who's world is about to be flipped upside down?

The sun is just starting to bury itself into the horizon when Bravo makes it home to Virginia Beach. After dropping their gear in their cages and changing back into civvies they part ways, each heading towards whatever will give them comfort and hopefully help remove the memories of the last day from their minds before the tendrils dig too deep to root out. Sonny, Brock, and Trent head back to the bar they’d been called out of, planning on a beer or two before heading home to sleep. Clay speeds off to his apartment where he hopes Rebecca will be waiting for him, ready to reward him for coming home safe after a successful mission. Ray gets a phone call soon after they land and tells Jason to hold up while he listens, acknowledges, and hangs up.

“What’s up? Naima needs you to pick up some milk on the way home?” Jason smiles at his own juvenile joke.

Ray’s face is sullen. “Let’s grab a beer at my place, brother.”

“Sure, brother,” Jason says curiously, unsure of how the request is framed. “I wasn’t all that interested in hanging out in my empty apartment anyways. Want me to pick up a twelve pack on the way?”

“No. Already have enough,” Ray says somberly. They get in their vehicles and make the short trip quickly. When he opens the front door Ray softly calls out, “We’re here.”

Jason’s confused by what’s happening. The kids are used to their boisterousness and he’s come over after a mission many times before; hell, after he and Alana had separated he’d spent a few weeks sleeping on Ray’s couch. They’re used to Uncle Jason coming over. “What’s with the sober attitude? Shouldn’t we be celebrating the win?” As they step into the kitchen, he’s floored to find Emma sitting at the table. She’s facing partially away from him so he only sees her from the side. “Hey! Did I forget about some holiday where my daughter comes home to visit me for the weekend?” His joyous greeting dulls quickly when she bows her head rather than turning and rushing over to give him a hug.

Instead, Naima approaches him. Her voice is flat as she directs, “Jason, please sit down. There’s something that needs to be discussed;” she pauses then adds, “calmly, I hope.”

“Okay, what is this? He crosses his arms over his chest and leans back on his heels, a half smile on his lips. “Does this have to do with that phone call from last night where you were trying to figure out why those artsy college boys are so weak they’re afraid to ask a girl as beautiful as you out on a date?” He chuckles. Then he notices Emma still won’t look at him and his mood turns sour. “You didn’t get kicked out of school, right? After all the effort and money it took for you to go to Tisch I know you’re better than that.” He tilts his head to the side judgmentally as he tries to get her to look him in the eyes.

Naima stands closer to Ray, putting her hand around his back and leaning in to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Sit down, Jason,” she says, with her voice a little stronger.

Jason drops down into the chair next to him comically hard. He looks closer and sees a tear in Emma’s eye. “Okay, someone needs to start talking before I start thinking the worst.”

Only then does Emma take a breath and turn towards her father, letting him see the giant purple bruise across her cheek. “Dad…” she whispers quietly.

For a few seconds, Jason sees Cymbre’s face superimposed over Emma’s, the deep bruises on the same cheek align and the memory of sitting over the young woman’s abused and bloody body invades his senses. His fists squeeze tight around imaginary bags of blood and saline; the coppery scent of fresh blood echoes through the air; cries of pain and fear haunt his ears. His breath catches and he closes his eyes to the sensations. When he looks at his daughter again, fire is burning beneath the chocolate brown of his eyes. Ray can see Jason’s about to blow so he steps closer and puts a calming hand on his best friend’s shoulder. Jason swallows hard trying to push the anger down, knowing it won’t be helpful or supportive to yell at his daughter right now. Emma drops her eyes to the table for a moment then looks back at her father as she pushes her hair out of the way so he can see the bruise even better. “Who did that,” Jason asks with his tone measured and terrifyingly flat.

Emma takes a sharp breath then straightens her spine and turns her body so she faces her father head on. “I went to a party last night…”

Before she can complete the sentence Jason cuts her off. “I know that and I asked if you were okay; this isn’t okay. I asked if you were hurt and you said you weren’t.” He shifts in the chair like he’s about to explode out of it.

“Dad, I need you to hear me,” Emma says quietly. She’s never been scared of her father before, but right now she’s a little fearful of his temper and getting caught in the crossfire of his blind rage towards the jerk that hurt her.

Jason’s arms flail through the air and slam on the table as his temper blows up and his voice bellows loudly throughout the room. “Yeah, okay. What are you going to tell me? This isn’t a big deal? Are you going to tell me that you still think you don’t need a gun? Going to tell me that I shouldn’t be upset that my daughter got hit and hurt and god knows what else?” He growls loudly as he shoves Ray’s hand away and throws himself into a standing position so he can start to pace back and forth. “Emma, I just had to see what happens to women who can’t protect themselves from evil and now I come home…”

Emma stomps her foot as she yells, “DAD!” When he stops and looks at her, she yells again. “Listen to me!” She springs to her feet and squares off with him. The sight is absurd; a beautiful, young, petite woman is stretching to full height as she stares hard at her tall, incredibly strong, Navy SEAL father to silence him. Yet, it works. As he looks down into her face his resolve deflates and his posture relaxes. He reaches out and takes her in his arms, holding her tightly against him. It takes a few seconds for Emma to relax into his embrace, but when she does she digs her fingers into his back and clings to his comforting strength. Peeking out around his large arm she says, “I’m okay, daddy. Really. Because of you.”

Jason releases his hold and steps back, urging her to sit down while he squats in front of her. His voice has dropped several decibels as he responds, “Okay. Tell me what happened. Then we’ll figure out how to work the problem.”

Emma wipes away a stray tear and looks at her dad. “I lied to you on the phone because I didn’t know how to tell you what really happened.” Jason swallows hard, trying to keep himself in check this time. “A guy I liked invited me to a party. He tried to slip something into my drink, but I saw it and threw the glass. Turns out it was a terrible prank and he didn’t want to look like a fool in front of his buddies, so he sucker punched me then tried to drag me into a bedroom.” Jason visibly flinches, but holds steady. “I put those Krav Maga classes to good use, dad. I kicked him in the chest and belly until he fell backwards over the bed then ran out of there.” She lightly places the back of her fingers against her cheek for a moment. “This is all that happened to me; just one bruise.” When she sees Jason finally take a breath she adds, “I wasn’t going to let him hurt me. I’m your daughter, after all, and we fight back.” Jason leans forward and wraps her into another hug, trying to cover for the tears that are forming in his eyes from relief and pride. “I called Aunt Naima this morning and told her what happened. She drove up to help.”

Jason briefly turns to Naima and mouths ‘thank you’ to her before turning his attention back to his daughter.

“When I filed a report with the police they already had video. The cop tried to blame me, but Aunt Naima,” she pauses to chuckle before continuing, “threw down with him saying if he messed with her then you and Uncle Ray and a couple JAG lawyers would be the next people he’d have to face. She called Mandy who apparently called the New York governor and he called the police chief who came out and suspended the cop right in front of us.” She laughs heartily at the memory, wincing slightly from the pressure of the smile against the bruise on her face. “Then we came back here, to tell you.” The smile slowly fades from her lips as she waits for her father’s response.

“I’m so proud of you,” Jason says as he stands, bent over, to hug her again. He kisses the top of her head several times then holds her back to look her in the eyes. “You proved me wrong: you can take care of yourself without a weapon.” He slowly stretches back to full height and takes a deep, calming breath.

Emma drops her chin and looks up at him, her gaze cautious and guarded. “Do you forgive me for not telling you right away?”

He looks down at her; she’s his little girl and he can’t stay upset at her when she gives him that look. “Of course I do. Though, why didn’t you want to tell me when we were on the phone? You know I’d do anything for you.”

She drops her face to the floor for a moment; when she looks back up at him she has a half smile on her face. “Dad, if I’d told you over the phone you would have lost your mind and broke land speed records on your way to New York to pick me up. You would’ve gotten a ticket or been thrown in jail and you wouldn’t have been on this mission. Plus, do you remember how you just reacted a moment ago? That was when I was right in front of you and you could see that this bruise, which I will fully survive, was the only thing that happened.” She huffs, crossing her arms. “I called you just a few minutes after I got back to my dorm, but then I realized I couldn’t worry you like that over the phone. Then you got called for a mission and I knew I absolutely couldn’t tell you. But that’s why Aunt Naima is always around to help, right?” She briefly shoots a smile to Naima before turning back to her dad. “She kept her cool and helped; plus, she gave me the strength I needed to be able to stand up to that awful cop. She did everything you would’ve wanted to do, except,” she pauses and grabs one of her dad’s large, strong hands, “throw a few, or a lot, of punches.”

Jason turns to Naima. “Thanks for always being here for us.” He reaches his other hand out and takes hers, giving it a brief, little squeeze.

“Anything for you and your kids,” Naima replies as Ray pulls her a little tighter to him and kisses her cheek.

*****

Clay unlocks the door to his apartment, hoping to find Rebecca inside. Instead, he finds a note left on his bed.

_Clay,_

_I had to run back to Washington. Let me know when you’re home. My apartment will seem very empty without you there waiting for me. I look forward to having my hero reign over my bed again soon._

_Rebecca_

He smiles as he subconsciously puffs his chest out a bit. He tosses his things on the couch and heads towards the bedroom. Grabbing some clothes he quickly packs a few days worth, hopeful he can stay that long. A three hour drive would help begin to clear the last 24 hours out of his head, but wrapping his arms around a powerful woman who makes him feel like a king while she smiles happily up at him would be the ideal balm. Soon he’s in his Nova, relaxed into the seat and on his way to Washington, D.C.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jason's reaction to Emma's revelation was hard yet expected. Even seeing only the aftermath of such brutal violence leaves an oft indelible mark on a person's soul. How will it affect Bravo going forward, especially if Mandy and Lisa can find the traffickers' boss and put together a target package? Or worse what if they can't?

Mandy takes a seat outside the interrogation room, frustrated. The two kidnappers were low-level in the operation and claim to know little beyond that Wilner was running their group and no matter how much money was going to be collected from the website the women would’ve been delivered to Port-au-Prince and someone higher up. Neither proved to be all that bright; she doubts they’re capable of significant subterfuge. Amber was able to provide information about how she met them on social media and hatch what she thought was the plan; but, mostly it sounds like she was just catfished and too narcissistic to realize what was happening until it was far too late. Mandy has her secured in a nearby D.C. hospital, where she can receive medical care yet she can continue to be questioned should it become necessary. So far Mandy is considering recommending lenient charges for her part, since the video of her naked tantrum has already been splashed all around the darkest corners of the internet so her influencer and modeling careers are going to be practically impossible, on top of already having been victimized. Senator Miller will probably be hit hard in the upcoming election, too, meaning he’ll lose much of his power and influence as well as his senate seat.

It has been a few days since the women were rescued and the FBI has kept her informed about the outcome of their follow-up care. While they were all kept overnight in the hospital just to be safe, they were soon released with no significant physical repercussions from their ordeal. That is, except for Cymbre. Mandy has struck a deal with the FBI that the CIA will continue to monitor her until such time as she’s medically cleared to speak with her about what happened and what she saw or heard while she was alone with the kidnappers. Cymbre spent time alone with Wilner and it’s possible he said or did something during that time that would give Mandy necessary intelligence. She wants this entire trafficking ring dismantled before they have the chance to try again.

After telling the guard to take Louis, who she’d been questioning, back to his cell she stands and walks to her rarely-used office; the space still feels as dreary and lonely as her bosses had threatened her it would be when she was demoted a year ago. She finds a voicemail waiting, informing her that Cymbre has refused to speak to or acknowledge anyone and it has made treating her injuries even more difficult. She’s worsening quickly and they don’t have the specialists in Wilmington to be able to treat her unique challenges, so they’re sending her by med flight back to Georgetown University Hospital this afternoon. If Mandy still wants to speak with her, it’s best she make herself available to do so soon, as she might not survive much longer. Since the message was left a few hours prior, Mandy immediately heads across D.C.; she can’t risk missing the opportunity to speak with Cymbre.

*****

By the end of the weekend Emma had gotten sick of Jason hovering over her. She’s used to harping on him about eating healthier and taking care of himself since her mother died, even though he’d never been around enough to do the same for her when she was growing up. For him to suddenly be auditioning for helicopter parent of the month is disconcerting and she’s had enough. Spending a Tuesday night watching an endless stream of cable news with her father in his dreary apartment is the last straw. She vehemently requests he drive her back to college the next morning so she can get back to her life. His excuses to keep her near fall flat when she reminds him that at any moment he could get called for a spin up and not only would she be left alone in his apartment, but she’d have to find some other way to get back to campus; when she mentions hitchhiking he gives in to her resolve.

The drive is mostly pleasant, thankfully. Without the distraction of the 24/7 news cycle or the restlessness of being stuck in his small apartment, Jason spends the time asking her about school, her classes, her new friends, and whatever else he can get her to talk about. It’s been awhile since they’ve had a long chat about nothing in particular and it feels like he’s getting to know his daughter as the adult she’s becoming. Unfortunately it’s a little too good to be true. When they pull off the interstate for lunch they end up passing an accident scene; paramedics have just stopped working on a woman, covered in blood, who’s clearly passed away. He turns towards Emma in hopes that she’s not seeing what he is, only to see Cymbre sitting next to him instead. He quickly pulls over to the curb and slams the truck into park as he starts to breathe heavily from the panic, causing Emma to worry and reach over to put her hand on his on the steering wheel. A moment later he blinks a few times and shakes his head then looks at his daughter’s slightly marred yet still beautiful face and perfectly healthy and intact body.

“Dad, are you okay,” Emma asks, worried.

Jason takes a shaky breath. “Yeah, sorry. I just got distracted for a moment.” He tries to play it off as no big deal.

Too bad Emma knows better. “Dad, you were looking at me, but it seemed like you weren’t seeing me,” she says softly.

“It’s nothing,” Jason dismisses. He tries to move his hand to shift the truck back into drive, but Emma tightens her grip.

“What’s wrong? What did you see?” Emma gently pushes, trying to get her dad to talk. She didn’t like the look in his eyes a moment ago.

“Nevermind,” he replies as he stares forward.

“Was it the accident? Did it remind you of a mission, or something?” She squeezes her dad’s hand a little harder. “Please tell me,” she says softly.

Jason breathes heavily as he looks away from her, the muscles in his jaw clenching as he tries to convince himself to stay quiet and bury the feelings and memories in the pit of his stomach. After a minute he turns back towards Emma, looking distraught and stressed. “Our last mission was rescuing hostages. One was gravely injured.” He stops and looks forward again, his free hand rubbing over his mouth as he chooses his words cautiously. Looking back at her he continues, “She had a bruise on her cheek just like yours.”

“I’m sorry.” Emma drops her face, allowing her hair to shift forward and partially obscure the bruise, feeling sad that she reminds her dad of a mission. “Do you think she’ll be okay?”

“I don’t know, but she fought like hell. Even though she was sick and hurt she saved others.” He’s not supposed to talk about his missions with anyone outside the team or those further up in his chain of command, but this is one of those times when he really wants to break that rule and spill everything he knows. He wants to tell about the sacrifice and strength they’d witnessed from Cymbre. He wants to speak of the massive wounds she suffered and survived. He wants to scream to the world that she killed one attacker through sheer determination and against all odds. He wants Emma to know women like Cymbre exist and to never take her health and ability to fight back for granted. He wants to know if, after how hard they tried to save her, Cymbre is still alive.

“I saw their photos that morning,” she says as she turns back towards him. He looks to her, a frown forming on his face. “I knew you were there saving them.” Her eyes fill with tears and as she blinks one trails down the bruise on her face. “I felt guilty that I wanted you with me when they needed you so much more. It reminded me that I couldn’t just wait for you to come fix everything for me; I needed to ask others for help, too.” Jason watches her, the muscles in his jaw dancing as he tries to keep his emotions in check and his mouth silent. “I never realized how much it must suck when you see people who remind you of me or Mike during a mission.”

Jason swallows hard. One of the most difficult parts of his job is when he has to focus on the mission while seeing harm and catastrophe happening to children and young adults who remind him of his kids. He’s always been grateful to come home and see that they’re okay, but the effect changes how he interacts with his kids; he knows that. He’d give anything to be able to box them up and keep them young and safe under his protection for the rest of his life, but that’s just not possible. Trusting your kids to be good people is one thing; but, trusting others to be good to them is entirely different. He clears his throat and looks at his daughter with his eyes a little red yet dry. “Yeah,” he says softly then pauses. He reaches over and slides his hand down her hair as he tries to smile. “It’s why I’m always worried about if you and Mikey are safe, but you just showed me that you’re more capable than I gave you credit for.” His smile grows as her eyes brighten from her father’s praise. He sighs and returns his hand to the gearshift. “Okay, let’s get back on the road and get you back to school.”

*****

Clay wanders around Rebecca’s apartment aimlessly. For the last few days he’s been at her place relaxing and watching tv during the day while she’s off in meetings, and then enjoying the evening with her. He’s starting to feel like a house-husband and it’s awful. When he finds himself paying a little too much attention to commercials about cleaning products he realizes it’s time to head back to VA Beach. The last mission had weighed heavily on the team and he’s glad Blackburn had told them to take a few days off, but now he needs to feel necessary again. Mandy and Lisa are trying to put together information on the trafficking ring and there are no other target packages close to executable, so barring an emergency mission there wasn’t much for them to do. Yet just hitting the weights every day is better than risking a sudden urge to turn on a soap opera.

Not since he and Stella broke up has Clay had the experience of getting to spend several nights in a row in bed with the same woman. The three hour drive between D.C. and VA Beach isn’t terrible, but when they’re both busy it means they can’t spend enough nights together. He also knows that asking her to do most of the driving isn’t fair, but he has no interest in playing tourist around D.C. and if he goes on any more runs the neighbors might think he’s trying to case the neighborhood.

He flips on the tv and turns to cable news. He immediately recognizes one of the women they’d rescued on the last mission; she’s being interviewed about the ordeal. He listens for a moment as she talks about how scared she was. Too often they try to forget and move on rather than considering what happens after the rescue; it’s just easier to write it off as mission complete and move on to the next. He mutes the tv and wanders into the kitchen to raid the fridge for some lunch. As the cool blast from the fridge hits him his mind starts to wander back to the videos of what happened aboard the yacht before they loaded on the C130. He shakes his head and grabs the makings for a sandwich. When he grabs a butter knife to spread on the condiments he stops and stares at the shiny blade, remembering the cuts and stab wound on Cymbre’s abdomen. He sets the knife down, puts his palms on the counter, and bends down as he tries to push the memories out of his head. She fought so hard, even knowing it could easily get her killed. Did she truly not believe they’d be rescued and she’d have to save them all herself? He thinks about Rebecca, Stella, and all the women he’s known. Would they be able to fight back if someone was attacking them like that? Sure, Davis and other women in the military probably could. Mandy has been through the CIA version of SERE training, so she would be able to hold her own for awhile. He thinks about the stories that have come out in the news over the last several years about the abuse and harassment so many different women have suffered for generations. He’s seen the aftermath of women being tortured and violated in desolate places or based on backwards ideologies, but how is it that even in the US there are still so many women at risk?

Clay turns and sets his back against the counter, sliding down until he’s sitting on the floor. His head in his hands, he tries to push away the horrible memories of the violence he’s seen in years of being in the teams and at war. Going STA21 means being a leader and changing how wars are fought, but doesn’t it also mean changing why they’re fought? If the US can’t find a way to stop violence against women, how can they expect other countries ripped apart by constant turmoil to stop using female bodies as currency? He pulls his knees up and crosses his forearms over them as he rests his head back against the cabinet behind him. His eyes close as an image of Cymbre looking up at him slips into his mind. A single tear forms and slowly drips down his cheek as he remembers her face changing from fear to hesitant hope when she touched the flag on Jason’s chest and realized they were there to save her, not hurt her more.

He quickly swipes at the damp in his eyes and takes a deep breath as he stands, returning to making his lunch. He takes his food and a beer into the living room, this time flipping to a sports channel just to numb his mind.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The worst task for an interrogator is asking questions when you don't know at least some of the answers. Mandy really needs to talk to Cymbre and find out if she has some clues that will allow Mandy and Lisa to find who else they need to target; but, is Cymbre ready to talk? Between fear, blood loss, and her trips in and out of consciousness will she even remember anything?
> 
> Jason and Clay seem pretty messed up as this mission is lingering in their heads. Emma needs to get back to some normalcy so she can feel in control again, but obviously that's not going to help Jason at all. What's it going to take for Bravo to move forward, too?

Slowly shifting her weight in the uncomfortable bed, Cymbre tries to force herself back into her mind. It feels like she’s wearing a blanket made of heavy weights and her joints are burning from dislocations and lack of movement. For days she’s stared at the ceiling, stared at the edge of the wall, hid within herself from faces and voice, and hated the agonizing wait for the inevitable. Voices have demanded she speak or move, or not move and be quiet when she wakes up crying and they catch her. Hands have been up and down her body, poking and prodding her naked flesh below worn-thin hospital fabric as she fights the urge to cry out. Pain and fear have gripped her tight, attempting to suffocate her. She doesn’t know where she is or what day it is any more than she can identify voices or the tiny snapshots of faces she gets around the bright lights that occasionally are forced into her eyes. She barely knows who she is right now.

As Cym slowly cracks open her eyes, offensive sunlight is gnawing into the ceiling tiles above her. When did they change color, size, and shape? She tries to shift her legs and raise her arms, but the heavy weights are tethered to something. Her neck is stiff and immoveable within the straight jacket wrapped tightly around it. The muffled sounds of voices are trying to climb into her ears, but still make little sense. Every breath is painful as her lungs fight against the mask over her face. She can’t tell if it’s pain or hives, but her body is covered in pin pricks that beg to be torn up to be quieted. The more she fights against the weights and strings tethering her into the pain the more her panic and desperation grows. Slivers of memories and snapshots of moments start popping off in her head. Attack. Pain. Fear. Death. Fight. Blood. Turquoise. Dark. Light. Faces. Silence. Fear.

Nearby voices begin to clear and separate. When she hears the creak of the door she freezes, her muscles bathed in tension while confusion swims wildly through her mind. She slams her eyes shut against the offending intrusion. Moments later the bright light from the window is mildly obscured.

“Her vitals indicate she’s conscious, but she’s continuing to refuse to acknowledge us,” a deep voice says. Footsteps wander quietly into the narrow space around her. “We were told that if she’s left to her own devices she’ll pull off the neck brace, remove oxygen therapy tubes or masks, and try to remove IV lines. She’s pulled off bandages covering her wounds, too. Once she was found hiding under the bed, scratching at the sores on her wrists and ankles from the flexcuffs.” There’s a pause as the voice is right over her. “We’ve had to sedate her on and off and restrain her. I wish that wasn’t the case as her vitals spike like they are right now when the sedation is wearing off, meaning it’s causing her intense physical and emotional distress. If we can’t get her out of this cycle soon it’s going to cause additional harms to her, if not worse.”

“So you believe she’s awake right now?” A softer, higher voice comes from further away.

There’s a pause and Cymbre holds her breath, waiting to see what happens. Silence echoes through the room, weaving tapestries of suspense and anxiety to drown the space. Seconds pass, then minutes. The door opens slowly then closes softly. The density of the air loosens and she slowly opens her eyes. No one is standing over her. She once again tries to move her arms, only to find herself still lashed down. Tears form in her eyes as she returns to waiting for the inevitable destruction she can only hope she’s pushed off for another few hours.

“You are awake,” the soft voice says at Cymbre’s side.

Cymbre visibly startles, her eyes closing tight again. She nearly cries out, but manages to swallow the sound. Unable to control her breathing, it becomes staccato. A gentle hand is placed on her forearm as the light from the window is fully blocked. She tries to pull her arm away, to roll away, to move any part of herself, only to be reminded she’s been prevented from moving.

“You’re safe. I promise,” the voice says with an unconvincingly soothing tone. “No one here is going to hurt you. If you promise to stay still I’ll remove the restraints.”

Cymbre doesn’t know what to do. A fearful shiver clambers along her skin, forcing a tiny whimper from her throat. A moment passes and she feels the tether being removed from one arm then the other. Then her legs are freed. There’s no way to hide she’s conscious now, but can she believe anything this stranger says?

“You can move now, but you must be careful. There was a lot of damage done to your body and it seems it will take weeks before the doctors can be reasonably sure you’ll be okay.” There’s a pause as the hand returns to her forearm. “Would you be willing to open your eyes and look at me? I’d like to talk with you rather than at you.”

Cymbre doesn’t trust this person at all, but what other choices does have right now? She can’t play this hiding game forever. Opening her eyes she sees a pretty brunette standing over her, face partially obscured from the light by the drape of her hair. Cymbre blinks a few times, her breathing still uneven. The face before her slowly smiles.

“Hi Cymbre. My name is Mandy. I’m here to ask you some questions about what happened to you. Are you willing to talk with me?” Mandy speaks softly as she looks down at the woman’s bruised face. Fear is radiating off Cymbre so heavily she swears if the lighting was different it might actually be visible. She’s better practiced in getting terrorists and mass murderers to talk than their victims, but she’s got more than enough patience to try to earn this woman’s trust.

Staring at the woman over her, Cymbre isn’t sure she can talk. Her throat is raw and the mask over her face isn’t helping, no matter how much oxygen it pumps at her. Whether she should talk or not is an even bigger question. She cautiously moves her arm away, dragging it up her chest until she can lift the mask from her face. Mandy reaches over and helps her remove it. Cautiously through a painful whisper she asks, “Turquoise eyes?”

Mandy’s curious about the question, unsure what she means. She shakes her head no as she says, “I don’t know what you mean. Can you give me more?” Fear and worry explodes over Cymbre’s face as she closes her eyes and tries to turn away. Mandy gently sits on the edge of the bed and puts a hand on the younger woman’s shoulder. “Hey, you’re okay. I promise you that no one here is going to hurt you.”

Cym slowly brings her hands up where she can see them better and rubs the angry red marks and scabbed over gouges on her wrists, one after the other. They’ve already hurt her. She wraps her left hand over her right wrist and pulls, popping the subluxated bones back into place then doing the same with the other. There are so many joints that are out of place and swollen as a result, but she doesn’t have the strength to fight with all of them right now; the contortions required to do so are awkward enough alone, but would be far worse in front of a stranger. When she lays her hands back down on the bed in front of her she quietly questions, “How long?”

“What do you mean by that?” Mandy isn’t sure if Cymbre is fully coherent or just confused after spending days in and out of consciousness. She thinks back to the day-long ordeal and the information she’d seen about the different victims, which hadn’t been much. Maybe she should’ve tried to speak with the family first to get some background, but she didn’t expect this kind of resistance.

Cymbre swallows hard against the knotted lump in her throat. She has to know how bad it’s going to be. “Punishment?” Tears begin to plunge down her face.

Mandy stands and walks around to the other side of the bed, trying to get Cymbre to look at her. “The kidnappers who survived will never be free. They’ll never be able to harm you again.”

Steeling herself, Cymbre bites her tongue hard to try to stop her jaw from trembling. It takes a few moments before she can ask, “No. What’s my punishment?”

Completely taken aback, Mandy once again wonders if the beatings and blood loss might have caused some loss of mental function. Before she can answer, she feels her phone vibrate in her pocket. She pulls it out and sees Jason’s name on her caller ID. She puts the phone back in her pocket and when she looks back she sees Cymbre’s eyes cautiously sneaking a glance at her. “Why do you think you’ll be punished,” Mandy asks softly.

Cymbre’s face contorts and squeezes tight as she can no longer hold back the sobs. Memories from years prior begin to play bumper cars in her brain. “I fought back,” she chokes out. “It’s illegal for me to fight back.” She covers her face in her hands. Dumbfounded, Mandy reaches out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind Cymbre’s ear, only to be rewarded with a sharp yelp as she jumps away from the touch. Cym cries out as her back hits the bed railing behind her and her limbs start to flail, thrashing her arms and legs as she claws at the neck brace and rips the Velcro loose. She screams as she pushes herself down the bed, throwing her legs over the edge and trying to stand; her legs fail and she falls in slow motion to the floor just as the bed alarm sounds to notify nurses her bed is empty.

Mandy runs to her, trying to stop her from moving further and ripping the IV lines out. Orderlies rush in and grab Cymbre, manhandling her weak body as her blood-curdling scream bounces off the walls then runs down the hallway. All Mandy can do is stand back and watch as they tie her back down to the bed and sedate her again. As Mandy regains her wits, she storms out into the hallway looking for the doctor to explain to him that treating her this way is just re-victimizing her all over again and that’s going to do more harm than anything else.

*****

Lisa’s just sitting down to lunch on base when her phone rings. “Hi Mandy. What’s up?”

“Lisa, did you spend any time looking into Cymbre’s history?” She gets right to the point.

“No, not really. Her belongings were tossed and the paperwork that was in there gave us much of the medical information we needed,” Lisa responds. “Why, what’s going on?”

Mandy sighs. “I’m trying to question her, as she spent significant time with the kidnappers and some time alone with the leader. I need to know if she has any information that could point us towards where they were being taken and to whom. She’s been unresponsive, but I tricked her into giving up that she was awake and got her to say a few words. What she said didn’t make any sense though.”

“How so? What did she say?” Lisa had wondered how Cymbre was doing, and this doesn’t sound promising.

“She asked what her punishment is going to be for fighting back,” Mandy replies.

Lisa’s startled. “Punishment? She fought them and helped save herself and eleven other women from being trafficked. Why would she think she’s going to be punished for that?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. She said it was illegal for her to fight back.” Mandy grumbles. “Who in the hell tells a disabled and medically fragile woman she’s not allowed to fight back when being violently attacked, let alone push it so far as to convince her of it until she has a massive panic attack just from the thought?”

Lisa thinks back to what was on the paperwork they’d received for Cymbre. “I believe on her list of diagnoses PTSD was included, as was anxiety. Perhaps this isn’t the first time she’s been attacked or abused,” she postulates.

“Would you have some time to help dig up information on her? I’ve already checked my resources and came up with little pertinent.” She pauses for a moment. “Oh, also, do you know what the words ‘turquoise eyes’ could be referring to?”

Lisa stops and thinks for a moment. “Sorry, I have no idea what that could be. Maybe you should ask Bravo if they have any idea. As for the info on Cymbre, I’ll do some research and let you know soon if I find anything.”

“Great. Thanks. Talk soon.” Mandy hangs up the phone.

Lisa looks back at her food, suddenly not as hungry. She takes a breath and eats a few bites anyways before heading back to her office to start digging into Cymbre’s past.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mandy and Lisa know there's something very odd about Cymbre's reactions, so they need to find out more about her in hopes that they can get the information they need. Clearly there's a lot more to Cymbre's story than anyone knows. With Jason still so emotionally raw after what happened to Emma, when Mandy calls him back what's his reaction going to be? Will they be able to figure out what 'turquoise eyes' is referring to and use that tiny piece of trust Cymbre is clinging to as a means to get the information they need from her?

Jason has just passed the outskirts of Wilmington, Delaware, when Mandy calls him back. He’s been mostly zoned out while driving, his mind wandering in and out of places he’s tried to bury from mission long over and new worries about his kids. He needs the short distraction as much as he needs to know Cymbre will be okay so he can push her out of his memory and stop her face from intermingling with Emma’s in his mind.

“Hey Mandy. I was calling to find out…” Jason begins before Mandy cuts him off.

“Jason, do you know what ‘turquoise eyes’ is,” she asks quickly.

He thinks for a few moments. “Can you give me some context? Is this for a target package?” He shifts in his seat, his back getting a little straighter. “Are we going after the traffickers?”

She sighs. “No. I was trying to talk to Cymbre and those were the first words she’s apparently spoken since arriving on shore. I thought maybe you might have seen or heard something on the yacht that would point to what she was talking about.”

“Sorry. No idea.” He pauses as he checks the traffic around him through an interchange. “Though I’d called to ask how Cymbre is doing. Is she going to be okay?”

Mandy cracks the room door open to sneak a peek at Cymbre, lying tensely in the bed even with the sedatives still forcing her to sleep. “Jason, she’s not doing well. She’s terrified and thinks she’s going to be punished for fighting back. When she’s awake she panics, but the sedatives and restraints they keep using to stop her from moving and hurting herself are making her even more afraid. If I can’t get her to talk soon I’m worried I’ll never get anything from her.” She sighs as she closes the door and starts walking towards the conference room they’d allowed her to set up in while waiting to attempt another round of questioning. “Oh, how’s Emma?”

“She got stir-crazy with me hovering over her, so I just dropped her off at school. I’m on my way back, now,” he says as he changes lanes.

“Where are you? Can you detour over to D.C.? Maybe she’ll remember you as one of her rescuers and calm enough to talk,” Mandy says hopefully.

“Hold,” Jason says quickly as he throws on his blinker and careens across two lanes of traffic to get out of the turn lane to head south to Dover and back into the flow of traffic heading straight towards Baltimore. “You caught me just in time. I’ll be there in 2 hours.”

“Okay. Great. Then all I need to do is figure out how to convince her that she’s not going to be thrown in jail or beaten up again and that she’s safe enough to be able to talk.” Mandy grumbles as she sits down then opens her laptop and signs in.

“I’ll do what I can,” Jason says. “I’m sure there’s some way to get through to her.” He’s settled back into traffic for the detour from home.

“Hey Jason,” Mandy says then pauses as she opens an email from Lisa, “I need to let you go. I think Lisa might have found something that can help.”

“Yep. See you in a little bit.” Jason hangs up and pushes a little harder on the gas pedal, inching further past the speed limit. Something tells him he’s never going to be able to move past what happened to Emma until he can put to bed this whole Cymbre situation. Whether it’s getting a target package and taking the trafficking ring out or just making sure she’s okay, there needs to be some kind of resolution for him.

*****

Mandy has spent the last two hours skimming over the blog that Lisa had linked for her. Originally Cymbre had used it to keep others up-to-date about her medical issues, but at some point it had changed to explosive revelations of childhood abuse and neglect, sexual assaults as a teenager, and multiple rapes and violent attacks including attempted murder as a young woman. No wonder she’s terrified! Not only had her parents repeatedly told her she’s worthless and deserved to die when she was a child, but the violence only worsened as she got older and she’d then been told repeatedly by the cops they’ll kill her if she keeps trying to file reports and get help since no one believed her. Being arrested, charged, and having plead down to a misdemeanor after she’d bit an off duty cop who’d dragged her into his car after a date had put the nail in the coffin of her ever believing she had the right to her own body. Of course she’s going to believe she’ll be punished for fighting back with so many people telling her this garbage. Mandy can barely keep her emotions in check as she reads post after post. Then she comes across a shocking statement.

_I often wonder how I’ll die. If nothing else about me has had any meaning, then hopefully my death will mean saving someone else. Who knows how long I’ll suffer until it happens, but as long as others are allowed to do anything they want to me and I can’t stop them then the least I can do is take the hits so others don’t have to. I wish I had a future. I wish someone could love me. Instead, I just hope I have the strength to make the next attacker kill me. Maybe the doctors will study whatever is left of me and help the millions of others living with these terrible conditions. If anyone reading this is willing, my ashes should be planted with trees to give back to the earth. Then forget I ever existed; most already did long ago._

Mandy presses her eyes closed as she swallows hard against the lump forming in her throat. She thinks back to the videos taken aboard the yacht and how much violence Cymbre had suffered. Did they focus their violent attentions on her because she forced them to? Did she do it in hopes they would kill her and end her suffering? She clearly believes there will be dire consequences for her actions, so why would she risk everything to fight back? As she rereads the passage there’s a knock on the door.

Jason pops his head in. “I’m here. What can I do?”

Mandy waves him over and points to the passage so he’ll read it over her shoulder. When he’s done she turns in her chair to face him. “Cymbre wrote that. In the first ISR videos she attacked and killed one of them; but, when she was being carried to the upper deck alone she barely moved. We assumed she had run out of energy and was in too much pain.”

Jason completes the thought, “What if she was letting him kill her because she would only fight to save the others and didn’t believe anyone would care if they killed her?” He slowly sinks into the chair next to her, his face pensive and sad.

“I’ve spent the last two hours learning about years of abuse and violence this young woman suffered at the hands of countless people who should’ve helped and supported her. She’s incapable of trusting anyone because there was no one worth trusting in her life.” Sighing, she looks at Jason, her mind switching gears. “I still can’t find anything that says what ‘turquoise eyes’ means, though. It has to be something important, as it’s the first words she spoke.”

Thinking back to the mission, Jason closes his eyes and imagines himself back on the yacht. He plays through what he remembers of the faces of the kidnappers and the women, and inanimate objects in the space. His eyes flash open as he reaches the part where he, Trent, and Clay are surrounding Cymbre. “What were you doing when she said it?”

“I was just leaning over her, trying to get her to look at and talk to me,” Mandy replies.

“Could she see your eyes, your face,” he asks.

Mandy thinks for a moment. “There was a lot of light coming in from the window behind me, so she probably couldn’t see much of my face, no.”

Jason smiles as he reveals what he’s thinking. “At one point she calmed slightly while she stared into Clay’s eyes for a few seconds. She focused on practically nothing else the whole time we were with her.” He chuckles slightly. “The kid’s eyes are hypnotic to women. Why do you think Sonny loved having him as a wingman? One look with a sly smile and the women flocked to him then Sonny just had to swoop in and try for a low-hanging branch. With the sun reflecting off the ocean his eyes probably would’ve been shining like turquoise jewelry.”

“You think,” Mandy asks. When he nods his head she returns the sentiment. “Call him. Tell him to get over here as it’s worth a try.” As he pulls out his phone she slides her laptop closer to him. “Then I think you need to read a little more.”

*****

Clay’s throwing on his shoes to drive out to Georgetown when Rebecca comes home early. He gives her a quick kiss and says, “I’m sorry, but I have to rush out for a bit.”

“Wait, where are you going?” She grabs his arm and tries to stop him. “You’re not heading back to Virginia Beach now, are you?” A flirty smile spreads on her face. She’s thoroughly enjoyed having him waiting at home for her the past several nights.

He pauses and looks down at her, then quickly tosses the door shut so no one in the hallway can hear. “One of the women from our last mission might have information we need. She’s at Georgetown University Hospital, severely hurt. Jason and Mandy think I might be able to help get her to talk.” When she gives him puppy dog eyes he sighs. “She could die from her injuries and any information she might have would be lost. I need to go now.”

“Fine, I’m going with you then.” She says as she grabs her purse and coat again.

He gives her an annoyed look, but quickly gives in. “Fine, but you can’t come into her hospital room. Whatever intel she gives us is technically classified.”

She smiles as she slips her hand into his and opens the door. “Then when you’re done we can go to dinner. There’s a new Japanese restaurant near Georgetown I’ve been wanting you to take me to.”

He rolls his eyes as he locks the door behind them and rushes her down to his Nova. As much as he likes Rebecca, sometimes she focuses on all the wrong priorities. Rush hour is about to start and they need to get across town fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While Cymbre's life isn't my life, it's not uncommon (anecdotally, as I've seen no statistical study) for people with EDS to have higher ACEs scores. Since EDS is genetic and significantly under-diagnosed and misunderstood, a parent who's struggling to function and not receiving proper medical support may be too harsh on their child or even be unable to properly care for their child. Even moderate abuse and neglect then sets the child up for both mental and physical health issues later, including increased susceptibility to violence and therefore more complications for their EDS. It can become a vicious family cycle. I've seen this topic broached in support groups and enough people had high ACEs scores and more serious complications together that I'm convinced this is a significant problem. This means that some end up separating themselves from their families when they need help the most because continued contact is more detrimental than no help/support at all (this is my situation). You can learn more about ACEs scores at these 2 links or by using your favorite search engine:  
> 1: https://developingchild.harvard.edu/media-coverage/take-the-ace-quiz-and-learn-what-it-does-and-doesnt-mean/  
> 2: https://acestoohigh.com/got-your-ace-score/


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cymbre had already been through so much awful before the fateful day when she emerged from an appointment with a neurosurgeon only to be kidnapped. It explains a few things about her actions and her words. At least Jason figured out what 'turquoise eyes' means and Clay's on his way. Will they be able to get through to her and will she have any pertinent information for them? How will Jason and Clay react when they see her again, especially considering the mental state she's in?

Mandy and Jason approach Cymbre’s room just as the bed alarm goes off again. They fall in behind the orderlies who rush inside and find that she’s slid down to the end of the bed and is thrashing hard, trying to loosen the bindings from her arms. Her demeanor is more animal than human, more rabid than fervid. Before the orderlies can lay hands on her again, Jason steps into the room and takes charge.

“Stop. Out,” he orders in his best alpha male voice. They turn and see the doctor rush up behind the group and wait to see what he says. Jason doesn’t, immediately turning to the doctor. “That’s enough of this.” He steps up into the doctor’s personal space, staring down at him menacingly. “Do you have any idea what she’s been through? All you’re doing is making it worse for her by continuing to perpetuate the idea that everyone who is supposed to protect and save her is going to abuse and neglect her.” The doctor tries to speak, but Jason takes a step back and puts his palm in front of the doctor’s face. “Nope. Don’t care. This is what’s happening now,” he says as he turns and moves closer to Cymbre. She cowers from him, but his voice is quiet as he addresses her. “Shh. It’s okay now. Let me get those off of you,” he says as he gently removes the restraints from her arms and legs. As she pushes away from him, her limbs uncoordinated and weak, he removes the restraints from the bed entirely and tosses them back at the doctor. “These will not be put back in her room, understand?” Fury is written all over the doctor’s face as his ego is bruised from being overshadowed by the random man in front of him.

Mandy points out the door. “Doctor, we need to have a chat in the conference room about what’s happening with Cymbre,” she says, closing the door and leading him down the hallway.

Jason turns his attention back to Cymbre once they’re alone. She’s weakly trying to pull the IV from her arm, but she can’t get the tegaderm to come up. He approaches her slowly, trying not to startle her too much. “You need to leave that there, okay?” She tilts her head towards him and he realizes she’d already removed her neck brace. He takes another step closer, holding his hand out towards her. “Do you remember me?”

She stops moving and stares at him warily. Her eyes are unfocused and her body is shaking uncontrollably. She tries to look at his eyes, only to get dizzy as she collapses back onto the bed. Her voice is pained and fearful as she asks, “Turquoise eyes?”

Softly Jason responds, “He’s coming. You can trust me, too. I won’t hurt you.” He pulls a chair over and sits down, keeping the railing of the bed between them to show her he’s not going to invade her limited space.

Just then the door cracks open and Clay steps inside. Rebecca pokes her face in around the corner; the shock of seeing Cymbre curled into a ball on the bed obvious across her face as Clay fakes a smile for a moment and closes the door on her. “Hey Jace,” he says quietly as he moves closer. When Jason vacates the seat Clay steps up and lightly smiles at Cymbre. She looks up at him for a moment then pushes herself back away from him further. He looks at Jason, confused, before returning his gaze back to her. “Cymbre, do you remember me?” She closes her eyes and slides her arms over her body protectively, even though the thin fabric of the hospital gown is haphazardly askew and barely covering her. He sits on the chair and looks at Jason again, shrugging his shoulders. Maybe they were wrong about what she was asking for.

Jason steps closer to Clay, his face pensive as he takes the younger man’s chin in his hand and tilts it back and forth, noticing how the waning daylight isn’t reacting in his eyes they way they would from the bright reflection off the ocean. Jason points to the other side of the bed. “She needs to see you in the light.”

Clay walks around to the other side of the bed, allowing the evening sun to blind him slightly as he bends down and rests his elbows on the bed railing.

Cym can feel their movements, worried they’re surrounding her. Her eyes flash open and she struggles to turn over as dizziness overtakes her mind. She tries to keep her eyes open as he steps closer and looks down at her, a light smile easing over his lips. Only then does she see it; turquoise eyes are looking down at her once again. Her breath catches and she stares at him, her body partially relaxing. “Help,” she mewls, her voice weak.

Jason steps up next to Clay, letting her see his face in the full light, also. Only then does he recognize the pallor of her face and the tint of sweat on her skin. He slowly reaches out and softly presses his fingertips against her bruised and scabbed wrist, feeling her racing heartbeat. He looks at Clay. “She’s not doing well.” He slides his phone out of his pocket and keeps it out of her sight as he texts Mandy to hurry up and get in there; she won’t have much time to ask questions before the doctors are going to kick them out.

Clay bends over and gently places his hands on her cheeks. She blinks slowly, trying to keep her eyes open. “Hang in there. You’ll be okay, but we need you to do your part and fight.” He releases her and bends down to grab the neck brace off the floor. “Will you put this back on?”

Cymbre’s vision is cloudy and darkened; the only thing she can focus on is the eyes standing over her. They saved her once before. The voices are muted and distant, words disjointed from the movement of lips and faces. Waves of heat and cold are splashing over her, leaving sticky residue on her skin. Dizziness, nausea, weakness; she doesn’t care anymore. Her eyes close as she struggles to breathe, her desperate need to escape to protect herself waning from having seen those eyes again.

Moments later Mandy walks in the door, dismayed to see the terrible state Cymbre’s now in. “Is she still awake?” She walks to the opposite side of the bed as Clay and Jason and then bends over, lightly shaking Cym’s arm. Her skin is now cold and clammy. “Cymbre, can you look at me?” She turns the IV pump and presses a few buttons, speeding the drip of the life-prolonging fluids. Cymbre doesn’t respond.

Clay sets the neck brace aside, bends down, and slides his hand along Cymbre’s jaw; his fingers curl to press against her neck to check her pulse. Her eyes flutter open slowly, searching through the haziness for those eyes. When she finds them, her fingers slowly slip up and touch his hand on her cheek. “Do you know where you are,” he asks her softly. She slowly shakes her head no. “You’re in the hospital. They’ve been trying to take care of you. Soon we’ll have to leave and let the doctor help. Can I ask you a few questions before that happens?” She blinks her eyes a little quicker and drops her hand to her chest before lightly nodding. “Do you remember being on a yacht with several men?” When she starts to breathe heavier, he leans closer. “It’s okay. You’re safe. No one is going to hurt you.” He pauses until she calms again. “Do you remember if they said anything about where they were taking you?” She shakes her head no. He looks at Mandy who grabs some paper towel and a pen off a nearby counter and writes ‘Travel time?’ “Did they say how long it would take to get to where they were taking you?”

Cymbre swallows hard. Every breath feels like an hour and every movement feels like a marathon, but she owes those eyes everything. “Days,” she mumbles weakly. Mandy writes ‘Any contact?’ on the paper next.

“Did you hear them call or otherwise contact anyone,” Clay asks her.

“Miller,” she says quietly. “Volkov. Martins.” Mandy writes ‘Other attacks?’

“Did they say anything about other kidnappings or other women you’d be put with when you got there?” He knows he’s pushing their luck, but she almost seems more alert with the extra fluid being pumped into her.

“Wilner survived dock birds. Mutilated,” her voice suddenly fades as her eyes slip closed and she falls unconscious. The monitors start to complain about her vitals. Jason rips the door open and calls for help.

Nurses and the doctor come running, once again. Jason, Clay, and Mandy step back to the other side of the room as the doctor moves her gown out of the way and lifts one side of the dressing to find that the wound on her abdomen is oozing rancid blood and thick pus. Her blood pressure is 60 over 40. Her heart rate is 150. Her body temp is pushing below 96˚F. They suspect septic shock from the cuts in her intestines opening back up. They rush her out the door and back into emergency surgery.

Jason turns to Mandy. “Did that make sense to you? What the hell are ‘dock birds’?”

“I’ve heard the term before,” she replies, taking a moment to think. “There was a target package one of my co-workers had been working on a year or so ago about the trafficking trade around Haiti. I believe ‘dock birds’ was the code word traffickers used for the victims who were rented out along the waterfront.” She pulls out her cell phone and rushes out of the room as she calls Lisa to give her the new information.

Jason turns to see Clay drawing on the whiteboard that tracks the patient information. “What are you doing,” he asks.

Clay keeps drawing silently, slowly giving shape to the Bravo logo with the black marker. When finished he looks at Jason, his face sullen and worried. “When she comes back I want her to know someone cares and is looking out for her.”

Jason sighs, his posture sinking and stealing his bravado. “Even if she makes it, I’m not sure she’ll know what this means.”

“Well, when Mandy puts together the package we’re gone. Who’s left to push her to fight?” Clay’s voice slowly starts to rise in intensity. “Who’s here for her? Where’s her family? Where were they when she was kidnapped? There’s no one in the waiting room hoping to hear about how she’s doing. Doesn’t she deserve to at least have some sign, some symbol, to give her hope?”

Jason closes the door as he listens to his teammate’s frustration. “I get what you’re saying, but there’s a lot you don’t know.”

“Then tell me,” Clay challenges. “Because the other women she protected are already making the rounds on cable news talking about how brave they were, totally ignoring that Cymbre is dying because they were too feeble-minded to do anything.”

Jason sighs sadly. “It’s better that no one is here. Mandy showed me a blog Cymbre has been writing. She describes abuse, neglect, violent attacks, threats, even attempted murder coming from numerous sources. She hasn’t spoken to her family in years.” He pauses, letting the knowledge sink in. “She was ready to die on that god-forsaken yacht. It’s possible she was daring them to kill her, just to escape her life.”

“Then this is that much more important,” Clay says as he points to their team logo. “Even if she doesn’t know what it is, at least it’s a reminder to the nurses and orderlies that we’re watching what happens to her.”

“I’d say you’re right, except I doubt she’s given up the belief that she’s going to be jailed or executed for fighting back against them. She just ripped herself apart from trying to escape being drugged and tied down yet again. Even if you stayed here and kept watch over her I don’t think she has the will to live.” Jason leans back against the wall as if his strength is being sucked out of him with every word.

Clay grumbles as he starts to pace. “There has to be something we can do.” He stops and looks at Jason. “What if it was Emma? What if that was Emma lying in that bed broken and terrified? What would you do then?”

Jason’s eyes flash red hot for a moment as he’s reminded of his little girl’s recent brush with a shithole frat bastard and an even shittier cop. “Don’t say that. Don’t even think about that happening,” he spits. “She fought back. She called for help. Naima, Mandy, and Lisa were there for her when I couldn’t be. As soon as I knew I was there for her.” Jason goes silent and closes his eyes, trying to keep his blind rage from boiling back up again at the image of Emma’s bruised face in his mind.

“Hold on; what are you talking about? What happened to Emma?” Clay steps closer, concern once again written across his features. “Is she okay?”

“She’s okay.” Jason slowly opens his eyes, slightly calmer. “A guy punched her and tried to assault her. She stopped him.”

Concern and shock rise over Clay’s face. For a moment he wonders how Jason’s not in prison for killing the guy who hit his daughter. “I’m sorry man. I didn’t know. When did it happen?”

“She called right before we got notified of the spin up, but she didn’t tell me. When we got back she was with Naima and admitted what happened. I was just on my way back from dropping her off at school when Mandy called to talk to me about Cymbre.”

The two men stand silently for a few moments, each lost in their thoughts. Neither is sure what to do next. Suddenly Mandy opens the door and steps inside.

“Jason, are you heading back to Virginia tonight? I need to get down there. The names Cymbre gave are leading us in a direction. I need to sit down with Lisa and pour over some intelligence reports, but I think we have a lead on your next target.” She sees the Bravo logo on the whiteboard and smiles as she points towards it. “I hope she can feel us watching over her.”

“Sure. Let’s get out of here.” Jason stands and looks back at Clay. “Are you coming?”

As they step out into the hallway, Clay remembers Rebecca. “Actually, it’ll be a few hours or days before any chance of a package approval so I’ll head back in the morning.”

Jason and Mandy head towards the parking garage. Clay collects Rebecca and insists on picking up takeout to spend the night in. When she sees the concern and stress in his face she gives in without further complaint.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The good news is Cymbre had information to provide and found a way through the fog to give it to them. What does it mean, though? The bad news is her health just became even more precarious. Can she find enough hope to hold on? Jason isn't convinced. Clay isn't ready to give up on her, but what will this knowledge do to his state of mind? What about the rest of Bravo; how are they handling this?
> 
> We're halfway through the story.

Clay stares off into space, his fork lightly scraping against his plate, as Rebecca talks next to him. He can’t focus on her words and he’s barely eaten. All he can think about is Cymbre and what he’s just learned about her tragic life, and about Emma being hurt. None of it is right and none of it is fair. He thinks back to what he’d learned about Brian, his friend from Green Team, after he died. Even after being essentially abandoned by his parents, Brian had people looking out for him until he had the ability to join the military and create a new family; Cymbre never had a chance to do something like that because of the sheer lottery loss of being born with a serious genetic condition in a community that wasn’t looking out for her. While Clay knows what it’s like to grow up with an absent father then without a mother who couldn’t care for him, he still had his grandparents and eventually the military and the teams. What would he have done if he’d been rejected by his grandparents or wasn’t physically capable of being in the military? What would he have done if random strangers had abused and assaulted him because they felt they had the right? His mind can’t even process it. Suddenly he feels eyes on him and turns to Rebecca, who’s noticed he’s not listening to her.

“Clay? What’s wrong? Is it that girl,” she asks.

For a second Clay resents the term ‘that girl’ and wants to correct it, but there’s no ill-will in her voice or her face so he focuses away from the statement. “Yeah. I learned some things about her life while we were in the hospital and it’s got my mind spinning.” He looks her in the eyes. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

“Can you tell me about her? Maybe it would help to talk about it,” Rebecca offers.

His fork clatters on his plate as he sits back, slumping into the couch and closing his eyes. What can he actually tell her? How much can he trust her with, considering she’s a lobbyist on Capitol Hill? When he opens his eyes again there’s a thousand mile stare emanating from within. “We still don’t know if she’ll survive. She fought to save others, but believed she wasn’t allowed to fight to save herself. She has no family or friends who care about her and no reason to live,” he says sadly. “I can’t even blame her for not wanting to live.” He turns to look at Rebecca, who’s silently listening and taking it all in. He takes a breath, wondering how to word his next question tactfully. “Have you ever been harassed or assaulted by random strangers?”

Rebecca puts down her fork and plate silently as she looks away from him. Settling sideways, she pulls her feet up onto the couch to tuck them under her as she looks back at him. Her movements are noticeably stiff. “Every woman is harassed now and again, some more than others. It starts when you’re young and told that’s just the way it is. You’re told it’s because he likes you or because that’s how the game is played.” She stops to take a slow, calming breath. “I work on Capitol Hill, surrounded by powerful people and people who crave power in any way they can get it. We expect to have our butts grabbed and disgusting comments made while hoping it never goes further beyond that.” She waits a moment while he considers the information before continuing. “Some women decide to turn the tables and use their sexuality to get what they want, rather than risk having it taken from them. Some give in because it’s easier than fighting it. Some get penalized if they don’t give in. Yet we all pay the price by being overtly aware and painfully alert to the reality: even if we’re not experiencing it directly, many others we know are.”

Clay looks her over, noticing the unusual way she’s holding her body and thinks back to how they first met. She’s always seemed so comfortable with herself and at ease whenever they’re together and especially in bed. He thinks about the frog hogs always hanging around the bars in VA Beach, hoping to score a night with a SEAL to try to fill some empty hole in their lives. He thinks about the guys who pretend to be SEALs or any military in hopes of getting some action from these women or accolades they wished they’d earned. The games always messed with his head, far more than the job. He wants a woman to share his bed and his life, not just a quick romp in the sheets with a no-name forgotten face. The few times he gave in and had a one night stand it didn’t feel right because he wanted to be wanted, not succumbed to. He clears his throat as he looks down at his hands and quietly asks, “When does it start? When do women stop getting to be little girls and start having to worry?” His eyes slowly rise back to her face as he watches her calculate through her memory.

“For some it starts when you’re in middle or high school and starting to develop a woman’s body.” She slides her arms around her midsection slowly, subconsciously, as she thinks back to her past. “For others it can start in grade school. When we’re trying to figure out how our bodies are changing we’re also learning how to dodge men’s advances.” Her eyes close as she takes a quick breath and lets it out slowly. When she finally opens her eyes to look at him again she asks, “Was she attacked by the kidnappers, or before then?”

Clay holds still and silent for a moment, the image of Cymbre’s bloody body flashing into his mind. “Both. More than once.” Under his breath he adds, “I can’t imagine what it was like for her.” The two sit in silence for a minute or two, their minds stuck in memories and the new information each has to process. When he pulls his attention back he holds his hand out to her. “Come here,” he says quietly. She slowly leans forward and edges towards him, curling herself against his side as he puts his arm around her. Both need comfort and closeness right now. Their food forgotten, they sit silently as they relax into the other’s body heat.

Once they finish their dinner, the emotional fatigue sends them to bed soon after. Clay draws her into a hug before pulling back the sheets so she can get in. They curl together again, content in feeling the mutual closeness rather than their normal flesh-pressing activities.

As he feels Rebecca’s breath slow and her body relax he breaks the news. “I have to go back to base tomorrow morning. There’s a good chance we’ll be spinning up again soon.” He kisses the top of her head. It’s times like this that remind him going STA21 and giving up Bravo means not having to leave on missions whenever called, which is a powerful motivator when all he wants is to give himself over to the love and embrace of a woman who will love him for who he is, not what his job isn’t.

Rebecca’s response is muffled as she falls asleep. “Okay. I’ll miss you.”

When he feels her breathing even out, indicating she’s asleep in his arms, he finally lets himself drift off while hoping she feels protected by him not just comfortable or accepting of his presence. His last thought before sleep overtakes him is that he’s going to stop by and see Cymbre again before he leaves for home. He wants her to feel protected, as well.

*****

Ray and Naima are settled on the couch, barely watching some cheesy rom-com as they cuddle together, when Jameelah peeks around the corner at them. She’s crawled out of bed after a bad dream and is searching for safety. Ray has spotted her out of the corner of his eye, but he ignores her as he waits for her to work up the courage to come to them. Soon she makes her way over and crawls up to sit on her dad’s lap.

He smiles big as he holds her close with an arm. “You okay baby girl?”

“Yeah,” her small voice isn’t convincing. “Just a bad dream.”

Naima sits up and turns down the tv as she watches father and daughter together. She sees how much her daughter worries now that she’s gotten big enough to understand that her dad’s job is very dangerous, so these moments are just as precious and important as they were when she was a baby.

“Want to tell me about it,” Ray asks quietly.

Jameelah thinks about it for a few moments before she looks up at her dad. “Mom and I were home alone with Junior and this monster man came in.”

“Really? What happened then?” He rubs his hand along her arm in encouragement.

She sighs loudly as she looks over at her mom. “He hit her like that boy hit Emma.”

Ray and Naima trade a knowing glance, realizing this is now a teaching moment for their little girl. A few months ago she learned her father could die or be seriously hurt because of his job, now she’s learning that some guys are violent towards women. No parent enjoys watching their child have to accept such harsh realities. Ray gently pulls her closer to kiss her head. “I’m sorry you saw that in your dream, sweetheart. Did you see Mom fight back?”

She grabs his sinewy arm and holds it with her small hands, keeping the warmth of his embrace around her. “She tried, but he was still there until I woke up.”

Naima gently takes her daughters feet and sets them in her lap, holding them to keep her daughter’s attention on her. “You know I would fight just as hard to keep you safe as I fought to help Emma, right?”

Ray chuckles lightly. “Your mom is practically a superhero. All the stuff she does around here, like taking care of you kids and the house plus all the lives she saves at the hospital as a nurse, means she knows how to get it done.” He smiles brightly at his wife; he’s been in awe of her since the day she saved his life and been in love with her every day she helps keep him in line by pushing him to be the best version of himself. “Your mom would’ve knocked that monster man silly.”

“Jameelah, you know Emma is okay, right? I know the bruise was scary to see, but she knew how to fight back to keep herself safe,” Naima knows that as little girls grow up they’re at risk of being harmed one way or another by guys who don’t have the best intentions, and she wants to instill in her daughter that it’s never okay to let someone hurt her.

“Yeah, I know.” She cuddles a little tighter against her dad. “Why did he hit her, though? Doesn’t he know that dad and Uncle Jason go after bad men like him?”

“In this case, sweetie, the police went after him so we didn’t have to. They’re going to make sure he knows that what he did was wrong so he doesn’t do it again.” He picks her up and turns her body slightly so he can look her in the eyes. “You know that if anyone ever hurt you like that you are allowed to do whatever it takes to make them stop, right? Then you come and tell us, Uncle Jason, someone else on daddy’s team, or any other adult you trust so we can deal with it. No one ever has the right to hurt you like that for any reason, just like you don’t get to hit anyone else just because you’re frustrated or upset.” For a moment Ray remembers watching Cymbre attacking a kidnapper and killing him; he hopes that one day his daughter will be strong like that and able to fight back in any way possible to protect herself when he’s not there to do it for her.

Jameelah nods her head yes. “I wouldn’t want anyone to hit me like that.” She pauses and looks at her mom. “Did Emma hit him back?”

Naima smiles as she replies, “She pushed him hard then she kicked him until she could run away. Emma did what she had to in order to keep herself safe and she did a good job. We’re all proud of her.”

“So if a monster man came here and tried to hurt us then you and I could punch and kick him until he left us alone, right,” Jameelah asks as she looks curiously at her mom.

Naima nods. “If someone tried to hurt us and we couldn’t hide or get away then yes, we would fight him until he stopped or until someone else like daddy or Uncle Jason came to help.”

“Good.” Jameelah yawns and lays her head on her dad’s shoulder, closing her eyes as she rests her slight weight into his strength. There’s no safer place for her to be than in her dad’s strong arms.

Naima moves closer and rests her head on Ray’s other shoulder as she turns the volume back up on the tv. A few minutes later Jameelah is asleep again, but Ray holds onto her for awhile before returning her to her bed, as he never feels more powerful than when his daughter is drawing strength from him and his wife knows she can count on him.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's so easy for guys to forget how often women are burdened with the trauma of unwanted male attention and worse, but Clay's gotten a big reminder from Rebecca. Seems she has a bit of a past that she'd rather keep silent about, but it would explain some things about her. What will Clay find out when he returns to visit Cymbre one last time before heading back to Virginia Beach? Ray and Naima are doing all they can to ensure Jameelah knows who she is, what she deserves, and how much she's loved. Hopefully the rest of Bravo is finding ways of dealing with their frustrations.
> 
> Mandy and Lisa have their work cut out for them. Even with the information Cymbre provided, it's still an uphill battle. Bravo wants to get moving on a target sooner rather than later, but they're stuck until there's actionable intel and a target package approved. Who knows how much trouble they could cause if they don't get something soon.

Clay wakes after a fitful sleep to find rain pounding hard against the windows. The onslaught of fat drops lashing against the glass feels ominous, as if Mother Nature herself is warning him that turbulent seas are ahead. He can hear Rebecca in the bathroom getting ready for work and he wonders how long he can push back his return to VA Beach; he’s not ready to see Cymbre again any more than he is ready to leave Rebecca’s bed. Yet he knows both are necessary. When the shower turns off he gets out of bed and makes his way into the bathroom, slowly opening the door as Rebecca, her hair already wrapped in a towel, is wrapping another towel around herself in front of the mirror. With a silent half smile he steps behind her, looking at her face in the mirror as he slips his arms around her to hold her close. He kisses a few drops of water from her shoulder then whispers in her ear, “Good morning, beautiful.”

“Hello, handsome. There’s still plenty of hot water if you’re ready for a shower, but I need to get to work soon.” She starts rubbing serums and lotions on her face, arms, and legs as he steps back to give her a little room to move. “When do you need to be back on base?”

“No set time. I’m going to stop and check on Cymbre again before leaving town.” He leans against the wall and watches her for a few minutes more before stripping off his boxer briefs and stepping in for a quick shower.

Rebecca quietly clears her throat. “I know you can’t talk about what happened on the yacht, but the video of Amber Miller-Bates’ naked tantrum has truly taken over the gossiping in most circles on Capitol Hill. Some have started questioning if Senator Miller should drop out of the election because of it.” She pauses as she removes the towel from her hair and starts to brush and dry it. Clay doesn’t respond. By the time he’s done in the shower she’s almost done drying her hair so he wraps a towel around his waist and stands silently to take in the sight of her for a little longer as a slight cocked smile tugs his lips. When she puts the dryer down she turns to him. “I also heard a whisper among some senate pages that Miller himself had met with shady people during a recent vacation in the Caribbean. Seems he was at a party hosted by one of the defense contractors he courts and not all of the guests were willing participants.”

His smile quickly drops. Clay gazes unfocused while she speaks, his face flat as he wonders if the information means anything in the bigger picture of the trafficking ring or if it’s just a coincidence. Either way, he knows he has to stay silent no matter how much he wants to vocalize his thoughts. “Until I get my commission I’m still just the tip of the spear and only go where I’m told to go.” He steps forward to brush a faint kiss on her neck before walking back into the bedroom to grab civvies out of his duffel to throw on. He files the information away in his head in case it should be necessary for later, but he’d rather not think about it right now. When he pokes his head back around the corner, she’s in her bra and underwear and putting on makeup. He starts to smile at the image, only to sour after a moment when he remembers the women hostages had been kept in their bras and underwear. Shaking the information loose in his mind he asks, “Would you like me to make something for breakfast?”

She turns and smiles sweetly. “Egg white frittata full of veggies with a sprinkle of low-fat cheese and fruit on the side would be great.” She returns to the mirror as she focuses on getting her eyeliner perfect.

Clay quickly whips up her breakfast and throws together a heartier breakfast for himself, too. Just as he’s about to call to let her know it’s ready she comes into the room in a calf-length maroon dress with pink lace accents and a leg slit that rises halfway up her thigh. More than looking sharp and beautiful, she looks like she’s off to a fancy Hollywood party rather than going to work. She turns her back to him while pulling her long, dark hair to the side. He gently holds her waist with one hand while he leaves a little peck of a kiss on the back of her neck before slipping the zipper up slowly. His hands linger on her as he considers pulling the zipper right back down along with the dress; unfortunately, they both have places to be. “Is there a reason for wearing this gorgeous dress to work? Should I be jealous,” he asks, teasing.

She turns and smiles flirtingly as she sweeps the skirt around her legs. “I have an important meeting today with a senator who is known to enjoy looking at beautiful women. By dressing like this I should be able to get him to agree to my boss’ proposal for additional project funding with very little effort.”

The sly smile on Clay’s lips slowly falls as he becomes somber. “Aren’t you worried that he or someone else might get the wrong idea and try something with you?”

Sliding her hands up his arms and onto his chest, she looks up at him with a hint of seduction in her eyes. “No. I learned a long time ago how to get what I want while also being cautious.” She stretches up to kiss his jaw. “As long as some men continue to believe they own and can control a woman’s sexuality for their own wants, women are going to fight back using our sexuality to get what we need. I know the game well, and I use it for my own means.” When she sees his face is still dour she adds, “No need to worry, Admiral Spenser, I have it under control. I know what I’m doing.”

Clay steps back and pulls a chair out from the table so she can sit down for breakfast. He sits next to her, quietly eating, as he continues to look at her dress. He wants to point out that playing with fire is a good way to get burned, but he also realizes she’s capable, smart, and knows what she’s getting herself into. After finishing eating, he gathers his things and they say goodbye as each heads out into the gloomy morning just as the rain slows to a sprinkle.

*****

A short time later Clay finds himself standing outside Cymbre’s hospital room. The blinds are partially pulled and the lights are off. He peeks inside to see she’s now hooked up to a ventilator. Pushing the door open further, he steps closer to the bed and pulls a chair over to sit. As she lies completely motionless, hooked up to machines to keep her alive, she looks like a broken doll. He takes her hand and gives it a light squeeze, but gets no response. Leaning forward he quietly says, “Bravo is watching out for you. Hang in there.”

Just then the doctor sticks his head through the doorway. “Excuse me, son, but are you supposed to be here?” He moves closer, cautious after his last run in with a large male in Cymbre’s room.

Clay stands and holds his hand out to the doctor to shake. “I’m with CIA Agent Ellis’ team. After the scare yesterday we wanted to check in and see how she’s doing today.”

The doctor shakes Clay’s hand, his body lightly relaxing from knowing he’s not going to be negatively confronted again, as he had yesterday. “I’m Dr. Henderson and I’ve been overseeing her care since she got here. Unfortunately, she’s taken a turn for the worse. Septic shock caused her organs to begin failing, but we were able to stabilize her. She’s shown no signs of improvement, so we’ve had to put her on a ventilator and into a medically induced coma to give her body time to rest and hopefully heal.” Clay looks at the doctor sadly before returning his gaze to Cymbre as the doctor steps in front of him to check her vitals. “Though her lack of improvement makes it seem like she’s completely given up.”

Clay swallows hard. “What are her odds of surviving?”

“Honestly, if she can make it through the next few days she has a chance, but I’m not holding on to much hope. Without having a support system around to guarantee she’ll be cared for I’m not sure how we can consider discharging her even if she does get better. Yet we can’t keep her in here forever.” The doctor checks the machines and slightly alters the settings before turning back to Clay. “She provided us with no emergency contact information, only an advanced directive. Agent Ellis told us there’s no one to contact on her behalf. So far the CIA, news reporters, and internet trolls appear to be the only ones interested in her.” He sighs quietly and looks back at her. “The hospital’s lawyers are trying to figure out who’s going to make treatment decisions for her should these difficulties continue much longer.”

Clay looks at the doctor, dumbfounded. Are these people really ready to give up on her? Behind the doctor he sees the Bravo logo still stands, silently watching over her. “Don’t discount her yet, doctor. We have hope for her.” Dr. Henderson nods quietly then leaves Clay alone with her. Sitting down again, he takes her hand and peers over the bed railing. Why isn’t she just another hostage saved? Why did this mission cause him, and apparently Jason, so much turmoil? He closes his eyes and the drone footage of her killing one of her attackers pops into his mind. She fought back hard. She took the abuse, yet she didn’t let it defeat her. Or did she? He’s then reminded of the bloody scene on the upper deck. Why didn’t she fight harder then? He opens his eyes and looks to her face, trying to see beyond the tubes and wires around her. What would he have done if he was in her shoes? In the military, especially in the teams, you fight for those standing beside you as they fight for you. None of the other women had shown any real effort to fight with her, so did she give up knowing she was alone? Clay gently takes her hand and places it against his cheek to let the bass of his voice reverberate down her arm as he says, “You deserve to fight for yourself the way we fought to save you. Bravo is standing with you, even if no one else will. You’ve already done the impossible by surviving this long; prove them wrong again.” He pauses to briefly kiss the top of her hand and set it back down on the bed. He stands and looks down at her. “Hang in there sister until I come back, for I want to tell you myself that the team has taken down every person involved in the violence you endured. They’re not going to get away with it.” He then silently leaves the room, heading for his Nova. Hopefully Davis is getting closer to having a target package ready for them, because he’s itching for some justice.

*****

Mandy and Lisa have been awake most of the night working on the new target package to go after those who funded and directed the kidnapping. They know Bravo wants to wrap up the memories of the extreme violence they saw on that yacht, but that can only be accomplished if they’re also cutting off the head of the snake that came up with the plan. Having four of the six kidnappers dead and two expected to spend the rest of their lives in prison is a start, but Mandy wants to reprove her worth to her superiors and Lisa wants to ensure no one tries this kind of violent and threatening tactic ever again. They’ve dug through intelligence and the partial file Mandy’s co-worker had pieced together a year ago on the trafficking trade in Haiti, hoping to find more on the names Cymbre had mentioned: Volkov and Martins. The names had been mentioned in chatter once or twice over the last year, but it’s as if they’re ghosts.

Just as Mandy is about to succumb to the need for sleep, Clay calls from the road as he’s on his way back, informing her of the gossip that Rebecca had shared with him about Senator Miller’s party in the Caribbean. She remembers a random note haphazardly jammed into the file from a month ago about a party having been thrown at a private residence outside Port-au-Prince by Martins in honor of the daughter of an important partner in the US. There’s little additional information, but it’s too similar to be a coincidence. She shares it with Lisa and then runs it up the chain. By mid-day quiet questions have been raised; Mandy had assumed when Cymbre said the name Miller it was because Amber had been working with the kidnappers, but it now seems like Senator Miller might have been involved in some way, also. She starts to dig into his history and travel over the past year to see if there’s any evidence beyond the rumor or proof of a connection between him, a defense contractor, and Haitian traffickers.

Meanwhile, Lisa digs further into the term ‘dock birds’ and finds references going back decades. Cymbre had pointed them in the right direction as there were some documented cases of young boys being pimped out on the docks alongside teenage girls and young women. She comes across the name Wilner in a report from several years ago, saying he’s an up-and-comer in the sale of exploited bodies, with a violent streak. The further she digs the more the intelligence appears to link the name Martins to Wilner, though there’s still not enough actionable intel to go on.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seems the gossip on Capitol Hill is important and thankfully Rebecca thought Clay should know about it. While Mandy and Lisa are trying to piece together the bigger puzzle and put together the target package, Sonny has decided he wants you to know what he's been up to. Maybe there's a side to the door kicker that only comes out around certain company.

Sonny rolls over in bed as the midday sun cracks around the nearby window frame and hits several beer bottles that are on the nightstand next to him. The ensuing light show forces his eyes to slowly open and for him to wonder where he is. He’s never been able to find solace while at home, unless he’s surrounded by strippers and alcohol; but, after being on the yacht and opening the cabin door to find half naked women tied up and afraid for their lives the thought of stripper poles and g-strings makes his stomach turn. After his relationship with Lisa imploded and he reconnected with Hannah while in Texas, he’s realizing that he needs to find some other way to keep his mind occupied when he’s not door kicking and knuckle dragging. He knows he’s not giving up alcohol anytime soon, but strippers are probably not going to be beneficial to him for awhile.

His eyes land on the clock, frustrated to see it’s barely 2 pm. He’d dragged himself to bed just before sunrise, but he’s going to have to get up and do something with his day. Throwing his legs over the edge of the bed he looks around for his hat, only to see that it’s not there. He stands and wanders through his apartment in his boxers, wondering where it had landed last night during his drunken stupor. He finds it in the kitchen, next to the fridge. He smiles briefly and opens the door, the cold blast landing on his warm skin as he frowns into the nearly empty space. He hates grocery shopping, but he’s hungry. Tossing his hat on the table he walks into the bathroom for a quick shower before dressing and heading out the door, his hat pulled low to shield his eyes from the harsh sunlight.

The store is several blocks away and since it’s a nice October afternoon Sonny decides to walk the distance rather than jumping into his truck. Grabbing a few items and a twelve pack of beer, he’s soon heading back home. As he turns the corner a block from his apartment he hears yelling coming from a nearby porch. He pauses and watches as a teenage girl is thrown out onto the stoop and the door is slammed behind her. She sits on the stairs, muttering to herself as her shoulder length black hair drapes over her face. He approaches slowly, wondering what the yelling was about.

“Hello, there,” he drawls quietly as he stands at the bottom of the stairs, grocery bag in one hand and beer in the other. “Everything okay?”

She looks up at him warily. “What do you care,” she spews angrily at him as she turns and slides backward until her back hits the metal railing and her legs are pulled tightly up to her.

“I don’t care, except the yelling interrupted my quiet walk and I thought maybe I should find out why,” he says as he leans to the side and rests his elbow on the end of the railing. He waits for a few minutes as she doesn’t respond then tries again. “Was that your dad you were arguing with?” He’d only seen the man for a few seconds, but he was definitely older than she is.

“Hell no,” she spits back. “That’s my mother’s asshole boyfriend. When she’s at work he smokes weed and plays video games, leaving the house a mess, and won’t let me in until just before she’s due to get home.” She shifts as she pushes her hair back from her face for just a moment to glance a peek at the strange man talking to her. “I hate him.”

Sonny sets his groceries on the bottom step, deciding he wants to get involved. “How can I help?” He tips his hat up slightly as he looks up at the house. Would it be easier to kick down the door or take out a window?

“You can’t,” she says as she finally looks fully at him. “My mother doesn’t care. No one does,” her voice fades as she tucks her hair behind her ear, a subconscious gesture showing she’s acutely aware of and listening to him, even if she won’t admit it.

Sonny can see a blush of red on her arm, likely from being grabbed as she was thrown out. No other marks are obvious, but that means little. “How old are you,” he inquires, his voice gentle and unassuming.

She scoffs loudly. “Why? Looking for a girlfriend, you alcoholic redneck?” Standing, she rushes down the stairs to push past him, but he puts an arm out in front to stop her.

He takes a breath and tries again, keeping his voice quiet. “You shouldn’t have to put up with being treated like that. I just want to help.”

Looking up at him, the anger in her face slowly shifts to sadness. “It’s fine. In a few years I’ll be able to leave this place and never come back.”

Having recently been forced to return home to Texas after running away to join the Navy, Sonny is painfully aware of how much a person can lose a part of himself when cutting ties with his family and the people he grew up with. He slowly drops his arm back to his side now that she’s not trying to rush away. “Did he leave that mark on your arm?” Sonny looks at her forearm for a moment then back at her face. “Does he hurt you often?”

“That’s nothing,” she responds. “He just yanked my arm to pull me outside. He doesn’t hit me or anything.”

“You don’t deserve that,” he says softly. “I think I’d like to have a talk with him.”

“No, don’t,” she says as she grabs his wrist before he can step up to the door. “This isn’t your problem and if my mom finds out she’s going to blame me. Besides,” she pauses as she looks him up and down for a moment then cracks a half smile, “he’d probably hurt you. He keeps telling me he’s studied martial arts and all that.”

Sonny looks down at her as a smile slowly eases onto his lips and he chuckles. “He’s bullying a teenage girl so he can play video games. That’s not the kind of guy who can hurt someone like me.” He gently removes her hands from his wrist then steps up to the door, ringing the doorbell and knocking a few times. He can feel her step up behind him, hiding behind him as a child behind a mother’s skirt, waiting to see what’s going to happen. When the guy answers the door he’s taller than Sonny, but skinny and lacking any significant musculature. “Would you step outside for a moment? I’d like to have a discussion with you.”

The guy looks Sonny up and down then looks around him at the young woman. “What the hell is this, Naome?” He tries to push Sonny out of the way to grab at her, but Sonny instead grabs him by the arm and drags him down the stairs and onto the sidewalk. The man’s eyes get large as he tries to fight against Sonny’s strength and fails. “Let me go, you bastard. This has nothing to do with you.”

Sonny holds the guy at arm’s length as he looks up at Naome near the top of the staircase and sees her surprised look. “Naome, would you like to tell this guy that how he treats you is unacceptable?”

The guy’s trying to rip Sonny’s hand free, but the vice grip on his arm is immoveable. “What the hell are you talking about? I treat her just fine.”

Naome cautiously approaches the men, slowly descending the staircase and eyeing Sonny as if begging him to not let go. “Frank, you’re an asshole.” Her voice is even yet quiet. “I don’t care how much my mother likes you, because I hate how you treat me. This is my home, not yours.”

Frank twists his arm and finally loosens Sonny’s grip just enough to slip free. He quickly throws a punch towards Sonny’s face, but Sonny ducks to the side to keep himself between Frank and Naome; as Frank stumbles off balance Sonny sticks his foot out to trip him then kicks him lightly on the rear to send him stumbling onto the lawn. When he turns over and looks up at Sonny he’s furious. “Naome, whoever your asshole friend here is he’s about to learn a very hard lesson about getting involved where he’s not wanted.”

Sonny laughs for a second then turns serious again. “No.” He watches the fury increase over Frank’s face then turns to Naome. “Go inside and call your mother. I’d like to speak to her about how leaving you alone with Frankie Boy isn’t a good idea.” As Frank gets to his feet and starts to charge at him, Sonny moves to the side and raises a knee, letting Frank’s abdomen slam into it to knock the wind out of him and send him tumbling onto his knees on the pavement, gasping to catch his breath. Sonny shoots a look back at Naome. “Then you might want to call the cops. I’m worried if little Frankie here keeps trying to bully me like he does you that he’s going to get hisself hurt.”

Naome’s eyes are wide as she watches Sonny put his hands on his hips and calmly watch Frank crawl a few feet away and collapse on his side. She runs inside and grabs her phone, calling her mom and asking her to take an early lunch break and come home. She then calls 911 and asks to have an officer come to the house because her mom’s boyfriend has threatened her again and a stranger is there trying to diffuse the situation, but she’s worried Frank won’t stop trying to fight him. When she steps outside again Sonny has pulled an apple out of his grocery bag and is leaning against the railing, slowly eating it as Frank’s writhing slowly halts and he stares at Sonny angrily. She slowly steps down the stairs, stopping on the last step so she’s at the same height as Sonny. “My mom’s on her way and so are the police.” She holds her phone to her chest, shocked by how calm he is while she barely knows what to do with herself.

“By the way, my name is Sonny. I live in the apartments over on the next block. It’s nice to meet you, Naome.” He holds his hand out to gently shake hers. He turns back to see Frank getting up on his knees as he glares at Sonny. “I wouldn’t do that, little Frankie numb-nuts. You won’t win.”

Just then, a police car comes around the corner, its lights and sirens on. As it stops in front of them, Sonny straightens his posture and tosses the apple core back into his grocery bag. The officer gets out, looks over the parties, and steps up to Sonny. “What trouble are you in this time, Sonny?”

“No trouble, Officer Thompson. Just stepped in when I heard Frank here yelling at young Miss Naome then watched him throw her out on the porch and lock her out of her mother’s house. When I tried to discuss the matter with him he tried bucking at me. Couldn’t let him hurt Miss Naome again or anyone else.” Sonny lifts his hat and wipes his hand across his dry forehead. “See? I didn’t even break a sweat, so I couldn’t have been any real trouble.”

Officer Thompson’s gotten to know Sonny after being called out to talk him down while drunk and angry at a poser or after getting a little too handsy and shirtless at the strip club, but he knows Sonny is a SEAL with a good heart. He steps over to Frank and kneels next to him. “You’re pretty damn lucky, boy. Sonny here could’ve done one hell of a number on you if he wanted to.”

“That bastard’s going to get what’s coming to him,” Frank growls as he pulls himself upright and jumps forward like he’s about to attack Sonny again. Instead, Officer Thompson grabs his arm and pulls him back, followed by pushing him into the end of the metal railing across the steps from Sonny and Naome, knocking the wind out of him again as it jams into his solar plexus. “The hell,” Frank struggles to yelp out.

“Nope. That’s enough of that.” Officer Thompson cuffs Frank, pulls him over to his squad, and pushes him into the back seat. When he returns, he walks over to Naome. “Would you like to tell me what happened here?”

Naome’s so shocked by this turn of events it takes her a moment to find her voice. She looks up at Sonny’s smiling face then at Officer Thompson’s unassuming gaze before taking a deep breath. “My mom started dating Frank several months ago.” She pauses as she tries to find her strength. “He doesn’t work and when I come home from school he’s usually playing video games and smoking pot. When I tell him to knock it off and get a job or refuse to make him something to eat or clean up after him he forces me out of the house and makes me sit outside until mom comes home.” She looks at Sonny, realizing she’d judged him all wrong when she first saw him, and finds her strength from his steady supportive attention. “I needed to do some homework on the computer tonight so I tried to get Frank to turn down his game; but, he got mad, grabbed my arm, and dragged me outside.” She raises her arm so the officer can see the redness. “Sonny happened to be walking by and insisted on helping.” She looks at the cop and decides to defend Sonny’s actions. “Frank was the aggressor. Sonny didn’t even hit him; it was more like he just let Frank hurt himself, I guess?” She pauses, but then quickly adds, “Sonny even warned him to stop because he didn’t want to fight him.”

Officer Thompson notes what she says then smiles at her. “You’re lucky this frogman happened to be walking by and was ready to help.” A car suddenly screeches around the corner and pulls up behind the squad. Thompson turns and watches as a woman in her late 30s, wearing a waitress uniform, barely gets the car in park before jumping out and rushing over. “Hello, ma’am,” he says as she approaches.

“Oh god, what’s going on?” She rushes over to her daughter. “What did you do?”

Sonny steps forward and holds his hand out to the woman. “My name’s Sonny, ma’am. I happened to be walking by when your boyfriend manhandled your daughter and threw her onto the porch and locked her out.” She accepts his handshake as she looks at him questioningly. “Seems he does this often.”

Naome looks at her mother, her face sullen and sad. “I tried to tell you, mom. The more pot he smokes the more he hates me.”

“May I get your name, ma’am?” Officer Thompson flips the page in his notebook, waiting for her response.

“Grace. Grace Young.” She looks at her daughter, a bit of anger still in her voice as she says, “He told me it was you who was smoking pot and causing trouble.” Naome shakes her head no. Grace turns back to the officer. “You see, I work twelve hour shifts at the diner and then need to shop for groceries, cook, pay the bills, and everything else. Usually things seemed okay by the time I got home every night.”

“Ma’am, Frank there smelled quite potent when he came out of the house. I believe your daughter is the one telling the truth.” Sonny gently puts his strong hand on Naome’s thin shoulder, smiling at her when she looks his way.

“I agree, ma’am. If I may, I’d like to take a walk inside and grab some evidence. I’m going to recommend he be charged with assault of a minor for the red marks I see on her arm, and with evidence of marijuana possession we’ll be able to hold him for at least a few days.” He closes his notebook and puts it away. “I’d suggest in that time you gather his things and tell him he’s not coming back into your house. Sounds like your daughter needs you more than you need him.”

Grace hugs her daughter then looks back at Officer Thompson. “Yes, of course, officer.” She leads him into the house where they find a joint burning in an ashtray next to his game controller. There’s more in a bag on the table. He takes a photo with his phone then gathers it before she shows him out.

“The punishment for marijuana in Virginia is up to 30 days in jail and a small monetary fine, but it’ll help us build a case for the assault.” Officer Thompson stops at the bottom of the stairs and shakes Sonny’s hand. “Glad to see you doing good like this, Sonny.” He turns and heads back to his squad and eventually leaves with Frank, taking him to the station to be booked with several charges.

“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you, sweetie,” Grace says as she hugs her daughter. She turns to Sonny. “Thank you for stepping up and helping my daughter, sir.”

“My pleasure, ma’am.” He tips his hat to her then bends down to grab his groceries and beer. “I best be getting back on my way.” He takes a few steps before Naome calls out to him.

“Sonny, wait,” she runs up and puts her hand on his upper arm to stop him. When he turns back to look at her she apologizes. “I’m sorry for calling you an alcoholic redneck. That was really mean of me.”

“It’s okay. You were angry. I’ve had much worse said about me.” He nods and smiles at her. “And some of it was even true.” He briefly chuckles to himself. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

She squeezes his arm slightly, keeping him from walking off. “The officer called you a frogman. What does that mean?” She looks up at him, her face cautiously curious.

“I’m a Navy SEAL and sometimes we’re referred to as frogmen.” He smiles again, his chest puffing up slightly with pride. “But don’t tell anyone. We like to keep it a secret that we can balance beach balls on our noses.” He smiles and winks at her as he chuckles.

Naome looks him over quickly. “You’re a SEAL? Really?” He nods yes. “That’s so cool. The way you fought him without actually fighting him…” she pauses as she looks back at her mother then at her hand on his muscular arm, “is that something you learned from being in the Navy?” He nods again. Her eyes slowly rise to his again. Her voice is quiet as she asks, “Is it something you could teach me? Mom tends to fall for some really crappy guys. And, well, the boys at school are pretty much all jerks, too.”

Sonny’s mind is briefly overtaken with the memory of the women on the yacht who were unwilling and unable to fight for themselves. He looks back at Grace, contemplating his response before looking back at Naome again. “I bet I could teach you a few moves so you can protect yourself,” he says softly. “Is that your phone?” When she nods he gives her his phone number. “Send me a text with what evenings you have an hour or two available. I’ll let you know when I have some time to meet up with you.” He stops and looks back at Grace again. A little louder he says, “We can do it out here in the grass if it’s still warm enough or in your house if your mother doesn’t mind.” When he looks back at Naome her smile is bright.

“Thank you, Sonny.” She quickly walks back to her mother and they go inside as Sonny continues on his way back to his apartment.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sonny seems to be more capable of being gentle and restrained than he likes to let on. Perhaps that time with Hannah in Texas after his relationship with Lisa did him some good, but he's definitely questioning some of his bad habits more after what happened on the yacht. As long as he's still the knuckle-dragging breacher Bravo needs him to be, a little evolution in his antics isn't a bad thing.
> 
> Mandy and Lisa are making progress, but a few holes remain. Time to try the interrogations again. Where will Bravo be sent? Who exactly is their target? Who else is about to join the action?

It takes another day of Mandy and Lisa digging with their respective teams and discussing their findings with each other before both realize they need to do a proper interrogation on Amber because her story isn’t adding up. They have her brought down from the D.C. hospital to a remote corner of the Dam Neck Naval Base to lock her in a room. They’re not going to take it easy on her again. Pressing her with the names Cymbre gave them, the gossip Rebecca revealed, and the new information they uncovered; Amber reveals something they never expected: this was about more than just selling a dozen female bodies. Senator Miller has been taking bribes from one of his favorite defense contractors to push for funding the black site security work they focus on. They invited Senator Miller and Amber to Port-au-Prince to celebrate her recent birthday in style, hosting a lavish party full of half-clothed people, drugs, and under-the-table deals. She insists she only went as a vacation to get away from the stress of trying to get pregnant by her idiotic husband, who she’s come to hate everything about except his money, only finding out about the bribes after they returned back to the States. She’d lied when she said she met the kidnappers online, as they met at that party and promised to help her become an online influencer by making her into a hero who rescued a bunch of kidnapped women. Louis had hit on her frequently during that party and he looked enough like her husband she figured if she got pregnant with Louis’ baby she could pass it off as her impotent husband’s, while using the child to get more attention online by documenting her miraculous post-kidnapping pregnancy. She’d had no idea that the kidnapping wasn’t faked and that she’d be sold right alongside the other women until they told her on the yacht. They were supposed to stage a fight between her and the men, allowing her to escape with the women in the lifeboat and show up near Miami after a day or two. Then her father would use her for press in the next election, she’d model maternity clothes to draw more attention to herself as an influencer until she’d had the baby, in a year or two she’d divorce her husband for a lot of money, and she’d be set for life. Amber begs for mercy, saying the video from the yacht will be punishment enough; but, that’s for the courts to decide now.

Mandy and Lisa are shocked at this information, realizing they’d given her far too much, and yet somehow not enough, credit. They then take the information to Louis, who admits he purposefully seduced Amber at the party, expecting to use a video of them having sex to extort her for money. Evens, his best friend, had convinced him to take a deal to join Wilner’s crew instead after the leader had spotted him cozying up to Amber. Since Wilner was known for being a sadistic bastard, having survived being a dock bird in Haiti for much of his childhood, and had been gathering hundreds of women throughout poor Central and South American ports over the past few years without getting caught, he’d been tasked with moving into the US where the biggest paychecks come from. Louis and Evens had been hired to work in the kitchen at the party by Martins, a Brazilian who crosses the globe to transport guns and traffic bodies, while Wilner’s crew had been there to deliver the newest group of broken and drugged young women and boys to appease the defense contractor leadership and Senator Miller into doing business with Martins and someone even more powerful.

They take that information and try Josue again, since he’d already been in Wilner’s crew when Louis met him. He confirms that Wilner has been kidnapping women for Martins for years, to sell in exchange for guns, and they were at the party in Haiti to bring a group of young women and boys for the defense contractors to use and abuse as payment for ignoring Martins running guns right under their noses around the world. Senator Miller didn’t know everything that was going on behind his back, mostly because as long as he gets his bribes for the contractor getting black site contracts, he doesn’t care about anything else. He tells them that Martins is indeed Brazilian by birth, but mostly operates out of a compound outside Koudougou, Burkina Faso, Africa. If Wilner had pulled off this job, he would’ve been tasked with not only additional kidnappings of Americans, but he’d also be overseeing the movement of trafficked bodies between the Caribbean and Burkina Faso, where the best stock of victims were stored until being sold around the world. Josue, Wilner, Renel, and Fritz had been there once a few weeks ago to deliver a load of women to prove they could keep the victims under control during the trip across the Atlantic.

Mandy and Lisa are shocked that within a few days and because of Cymbre’s and Rebecca’s information they’ve stumbled into the heart of a massive trafficking and gun running ring, but while they send the information about the network in Haiti up the chain so the brass can assign other teams to dismantle the operation there, they’re more interested in using Bravo to track down Martins and find his trading partner. They also have their staff put together the information about Senator Miller’s part in this to send to the Senate Ethics Committee. He needs to pay for what he’s done, as well. Congress should be able to easily determine who the defense contractor is and revoke their funding then decide what to do with them after that.

Exhausted yet emboldened they put together their target package for Martins in Burkina Faso and request to immediately execute. The approval is swift. Having worked with General Trask of US AFRICOM previously, they contact him at his office in Stuttgart, Germany, to request his help in getting Bravo in country. He eventually complies, knowing that if Bravo can complete the mission it will help AFRICOM’s mission and be a major win against global trafficking and numerous terror groups. Yet the approval comes with warnings.

Ready to present the WARNO to Bravo, Mandy and Lisa call in the team and wait at DEVGRU for them to arrive. This is going to be a tricky operation, but if anyone can pull it off it’ll be Bravo team.

*****

Clay walks into The Bulkhead where Sonny, Brock, and Trent are playing darts as they drink and shoot the shit. After spending several days in D.C. he’d taken some time to clean up his apartment, get in a real workout on base, and now it’s drinking time with the guys.

“Lookie what we got here, fellas,” Sonny says as Clay walks over. “Our little dream house Ken got Barbie to lend him her pink Ferrari for a night out.” Brock and Trent chuckle as they continue their dart game.

Clay smiles in annoyed acceptance of the ribbing. “At least I don’t need a bicycle pump to get my woman ready for a date night,” he tosses back as he raises his hand towards a distant waitress indicating he’s buying a new round for the four of them. “From what it sounds like, you’ve been having some problems picking up women without my amazing wingman skills.”

Sonny chortles. One thing he’s always enjoyed about Clay is his ability to throw a great comeback. “Is it true that the longer you stay in D.C. the smaller your manhood gets?” He swings an open fist towards Clay’s crotch, stopping right before grabbing him; Clay’s body clenches slightly for a second, but he smiles as he knows Sonny wouldn’t actually risk the nut-grabbing retorts. “I was worried if you stayed there any longer Rebecca might need a magnifying glass.”

“Even half as big is still more than you’ve ever had, Sonny,” Clay responds with a big smile.

Brock slaps Sonny’s ass as he walks by and snickers, “Got you there, man.”

Trent steps up and drapes his forearm over Sonny’s shoulder as he looks at Clay. “Actually, Sonny here was just telling us about the hero act he pulled this afternoon.” A new waitress they haven’t seen before brings over a fresh round of beers. She cautiously and silently eyes the men as she removes each bottle from her tray and sets them on the table before taking the payment from Clay. She briefly notices Trent’s arm and quickly looks to his face, a hint of an acquiescent smile pulling on her lips for a moment before she focuses her sad eyes on clearing the empties and leaving the group before anyone says anything to her.

Clay snickers as he grabs a beer. “Sonny, did you finally get around to patching that leak on your blow-up doll with some duct tape?”

Sonny’s demeanor turns more serious as he responds, “Ha ha. No.” He grabs the darts out of Trent’s hand and steps to the line to throw one before he adds, “A teenage girl was being mistreated by her mother’s bully of a boyfriend and I stepped in. Let his bad attitude get him in trouble until Officer Thompson showed up to arrest him.”

Clay picks up one of the beers and holds it out to Sonny as he finishes throwing his round, offering a fist bump in the process. “So you can be chivalrous,” he says as he feigns shock.

“Always was. Just ask all them dancers that walked away with good tips,” he tosses back, smiling big and laughing jovially as Clay rolls his eyes.

Brock finishes his turn and grabs a beer, taking a hard pull before smacking the bottom of his bottle on the top of Sonny’s. “Thought that was the premium for you taking off your shirt on stage beside them,” he says as the beer foam volcano starts.

Sonny looks at his rapidly emptying bottle sadly. “That’s alcohol abuse,” he grumbles.

Trent stretches past the growing pile of foam on the floor as he quickly grabs his beer before Sonny can nab it. “Too bad for you,” he says just as their phones start popping off. Each guy grabs their phone, both dismayed by the interruption and cautiously optimistic that it means Davis knows who sent the kidnappers into D.C. about a week ago. They set their beers down, Sonny shaking the foam off his hand and quickly wiping it with napkin, as they head out to the parking lot where twilight has just whispered its last gasps into darkness. Clay and Brock have their vehicles in the lot, but Sonny and Trent had planned to ride share home, so Sonny jumps in Clay’s Nova and they take off. Brock gets in his truck, but Trent pauses just outside the bar’s door as he notices movement behind it. As he turns he sees the waitress sitting on the ground, her arms wrapped around her bent legs and her forehead dropped to her knees. Brock starts up his truck and hits the headlights at her and Trent, causing her to violently startle and slam her back into the wall as she sits upright. Trent holds up a finger to Brock to indicate he needs a moment and bends down over her. “You okay,” he asks quickly. He knows they need to report ASAP, but the earlier brief glimpse of her sad eyes had already made him wonder what was up with her. It’ll only take a moment to at least ask.

She shades her eyes from the bright light with her hand as she worriedly looks up at his face. Staying silent, she quickly swipes at her damp eyes before dropping her gaze back down him. It’s not until her eyes get to his arm that she realizes he’s the patron from earlier and she looks back up at him again. Her voice is rough as she asks, “Are you a soldier?”

He’s curious about why that’s her first question, but with time short he decides to just answer it. “We’re sailors, ma’am. Are you going to be okay or should I call someone for you?”

Just then her phone chimes and she looks at the text. Trent can see that it’s in all caps, but she turns the screen off too quickly for him to read more than a few words. The roughness in her voice turns fearful and halting as she replies, “No. It’s fine,” and turns her face away.

As much as he can tell she’s lying, he doesn’t have the time to push further. He straightens and pulls out his wallet, grabbing a $20 and holding it out to her. “Listen, we made a bit of a mess on the floor in there. Hope this will make up for it.” Considering the angry text and her reaction to both it and his answer to her question he figures if nothing else her first night seeing them being troublesome in their favorite bar isn’t the time to be stingy with a tip. Brock honks the horn and Trent throws him an angry glare before turning back to see her eyes looking up at him, fear glassing her gaze. His voice is gentler as he says, “It’s just a tip. Take it.”

She searches his face for signs of malice and finding none she reaches out and takes the money from him, her fingertips lightly brushing against his knuckles for just a second. “Thank you,” she says softly as she folds it into her hand and wraps her arms around her legs again, watching as he rushes off and jumps into Brock’s truck.

Brock hits the gas as he says, “What was that about?”

“That was our new waitress.” Trent pauses as they exit the parking lot and he sees her stand and take a deep breath before resigning to walking back inside. “Either she’s running from violence or currently living in fear, but I’m pretty sure that text she just got was a threat.”

“Can’t fix the world, brother,” Brock responds, his words more fact-stating than disregard.

“Isn’t that what we joined the military to do,” Trent asks rhetorically.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's much easier to get information from hostiles when you have some of the answers already. Now Mandy and Lisa know where to point the tip of the spear, but Bravo needs a little extra help to ensure the mission is successful.
> 
> Of course the boys are going to support Sonny's act of chivalry, even while ribbing him. Hopefully the waitress will be able to forgive them for that mess they left behind; but, it'll be a little while before they'll be back in the bar as they have some bad guys to go after. Time to get back into DEVGRU and start planning the mission.

Bravo team once again files into DEVGRU. Senior Chief Scott “Full Metal” Carter, leader of Alpha team, is already seated inside and gets fist bumps and greetings as each Bravo teammate enters. They take their seats while Lisa and Mandy take the front of the room to begin the briefing with Blackburn starting them off.

“Listen up. Gentlemen, I know you’re anxious to get on target. Mandy and Davis have put this package together very quickly thanks to the information Cymbre provided and a tip that Rebecca mentioned to Clay. We’re moving half-blind so we’ve called in Senior Chief Carter for additional support, but I’m sure you’ll soon understand why we’re moving at light speed with this one.” Blackburn steps out of the way to give the women the floor.

Davis takes her spot at the front of the room. Exhaustion is etched into her features, but determination is clear in her eyes. “We’ve pieced together some very disturbing information and because of the scope of this thing we’ve had to get other agencies involved.” As she sees sour looks on the faces looking up at her she smiles. “Don’t worry. I made sure you’re pointing front and center at the biggest target.” She clicks the remote and a photo of Amber and Senator Miller is put on the screen. “First a little back story in how we got here. As you know, the Senator has been entrenched in the belief that defense contractors are the best way to secure the globe and advance our country’s interests. What he didn’t tell anyone is that’s because one of his favorite contracting companies has been bribing him to look the other way as they take part in some heinous activities. We’ve caught him with his pants down as there’s proof he was in Haiti about a month ago to party with that contractor’s leadership team under the cover of it being a party for Amber’s birthday.” She clicks the remote and puts up pictures of Wilner, Renel, and Josue on the screen. “The leader of the kidnapping crew, Wilner, had been paid to bring drugged trafficking victims to that party for the use of the men there.” As the faces around her turn angry she clicks again and pulls up Louis’ and Evans’ photos. “These two had been hired to work in the kitchen at that party and decided to exploit Amber for money; however, before the night was over they’d been convinced to join Wilner’s team and catfish Amber into participating in her own kidnapping instead. You see, a bigger player has been pushing Wilner to move his operations into the States to get women who will bring a bigger payday on the global sex trade market.” The team sits up a little straighter in their chairs as Davis’ voice conveys confidence in the intelligence. “So not only is Senator Miller corrupt and about to be investigated by the Senate Ethics Committee, his daughter was under the belief that faking being kidnapped was going to get her fame and fortune. Wilner and his team had other plans for her, knowing that if her father turned against them they could blackmail him with videos from the party.”

Jason’s chair squeaks lightly as he leans forward into his elbows braced on the table. “Okay, so Miller’s being taken down. Amber’s fame and fortune goals are shut down. Wilner is dead and his team captured or killed. Are we heading to Haiti to clear out the rest of the trafficking operation or are we going after the defense contractor?” His anxious need to get on target has him jumping the gun and he knows it.

Mandy steps forward. “During the investigation we came across the term ‘dock birds’. This is the local term for the young women and boys being sold in seedy areas near the waterfront in Haiti. Many of them are eventually moved around the world, as Haiti is usually just the first stop. Wilner was a big player in providing new bodies so we’ve tasked other teams with going to the Caribbean to try to clean up the operation there, but we’re going after the bigger players.”

Full Metal leans back his chair. “Any chance we can stop in the Caribbean on the way back? We can catch some bad guys, catch a few rays on the beach; you know, work.” The team turns to him wanting to agree as a knee-jerk reaction, but remembering what happened on the yacht dulls their response.

“Maybe next time, big fella,” Sonny says for the team. “The fun we want is getting back at them boss men traffickers in any way we can.”

Davis clicks the remote again, putting up a grainy photo of a man on the screen to get the team’s attention back on her. “We believe this is who was bankrolling Wilner’s operations. His name is Martins. He was born in Brazil, but is now one of the heavy hitters in both the trafficking trade and world-wide gun running.” There’s a soft click as one of the screens behind her changes to a video link with General Trask, four-star US Army commander, in his office in Germany. Davis moves out of the way of the screen so they can see him. “I’m sure you all remember General Trask, Commander of US AFRICOM. We’ve turned to him as we need his support in this mission. Martins is based out of a large, heavily fortified compound outside Koudougou, Burkina Faso.” She clicks the remote to show a map of the region behind her.

Trask stands a little straighter as he addresses the team. “Burkina Faso has recently signed a military cooperation agreement with Russia. This includes the delivery of Russian-made weapons into the area. Thirteen percent of Russia’s arms exports in 2017 were sent to Africa, but we believe that number has greatly increased since. Included in recent deliveries to Burkina Faso were military transport helos and air-to-air missiles, but we have reason to believe that hand-held weapons have been distributed to unsavory elements in country in addition to their military. While Russia is claiming these weapons are necessary in their need to combat the Islamic State, Russian-backed military mercenaries have also been sent to the area. This means it’s not a friendly place for the American military to be seen directly interfering and will make your mission much harder. We have to keep this operation silent. Pissing off Russian allies would put one hell of a thorn in our greater mission here.”

Davis clicks the remote and shows satellite images from above Martin’s compound. “We believe that Martins is not only using this compound to house and break the higher profile trafficking victims delivered to him from wealthier nations that will get him a greater payday, but also to store some of the weapons he’s been holding between sales. It appears he may be selling some trafficking victims to the Russian mercenaries to get access to higher-grade weapons, which he has no qualms about selling to the highest bidders in other parts of the world, likely even to budding terrorist groups.” She turns to the team, fury clouding her features. “He’s selling kidnapped bodies for weapons of war. That’s why we’re sending Bravo in to take him out.”

Mandy speaks up as she indicates for Lisa to change the image on the screens again to an outline showing the leadership and trade structure between the groups. “We’ve also been given the name Volkov. While the name has been whispered for a few years as a major player in the sale of Russian weapons outside of official channels, he’s been able to remain hidden from all attempts to gather intelligence on him.” Her gaze settles on Clay and Jason as her voice softens slightly. “Cymbre heard Wilner say the names Miller, Martins, and Volkov while aboard the yacht,” she reminds them. She looks to the rest of the team and continues, “This is the first time the CIA has been able to directly connect Volkov’s name to a specific weapons ring.”

Trask clears his throat. “If it wasn’t for this information I would’ve denied the request for you to operate in Burkina Faso; however, now that we know Martins and Volkov are involved in a nexus of both trafficking and dark weapons operations there I’m offering support for your team to move in and take Martins into custody then gather all technology you find in hopes of pinning down Volkov.”

Davis clicks the remote to change the screen to show a regional view including Ghana and Burkina Faso, pointing to areas as she explains. “We’ll be flying into KAIPTC, along the Atlantic coast of Ghana. From there, General Trask has set up air transport manned by local forces to Tumu, a city near the Burkina Faso border. Indig vehicles will be used to get you within two klicks of the compound where you’ll hump the remainder on foot to storm it.”

“I must strongly stress that you will be on your own once you enter Burkina Faso,” Trask asserts. “Get in, get Martins, gather whatever tech you can get your hands on, and get out as fast as possible. If you are caught you cannot be identified as American military.”

Jason leans back in his chair again. “Are we getting a ‘terp to speak to the locals?”

Davis looks at Clay. “We know your French is excellent, but how’s your Mossi?”

Clay gives a cocked smile as he looks up at her. “I remember a few rusty phrases, but let’s hope we’re running into people who went to school and learned French.”

Ray pulls his laptop closer to look at the overhead view of the compound. “It looks like he’s got trees and fencing around the compound, possibly razor wire to keep the women from escaping, but nothing difficult for us to deal with. Do we know which buildings are for what?”

Davis changes the satellite image of the compound to one with notes. “This building has four stories and appears to house Martins and his staff. There are three larger buildings that are cordoned off with razor wire except at the locked metal door, which is where the trafficking victims are expected to be held. Then there appears to be some version of an underground munitions bunker fortified by brick or concrete off to the side of the property, which is where the weapons are stored for safe keeping.”

“Wait, what are we going to do about the trafficking victims? We’re not leaving them there, right,” Clay asks.

“I cannot authorize extractions at this time,” Trask responds. “Once you remove Martins and we can prove a link to Volkov then I’ll notify our partners in the ECOWAS and request their assistance to remove the trafficking victims to be returned to their home countries.”

“What will stop Martins’ people from moving or killing the victims before another country can get in there and evacuate them?” Brock looks around at the team before looking back at Mandy and Lisa. “Do we have any idea how many they’re holding?”

Lisa types on the laptop and pulls up a satellite video showing dots around the buildings on the property. “Our best estimate puts it near one hundred bodies. We’d have to take several buses in there to evacuate them all.”

“Our partner forces will be notified immediately upon your exfil.” Trask looks a little annoyed as he responds. “I understand this mission comes after the kidnapping of multiple American women, but we have zero evidence that there are any Americans in this compound. That means we cannot take ownership of the trafficking victims.” He softens slightly as he continues, “I have full faith in our partner forces to be ready to move in as soon as we have Martins in hand.”

Blackburn steps back up front to address the team again. “I know it’s not ideal to leave them behind and expect someone else to come in to play the heroes after you’ve done the hardest part, but this is for the best, gentlemen. You’re tasked with getting Martins and whatever intel is on site then getting out without disturbing the neighborhood and causing an international incident. You’ve got two hours until wheels up. Use them wisely.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trask's warnings are important, but when has Bravo ever been able to avoid every small challenge during a mission? They know who they're after, where they're going, and have some idea of what they're walking into. Time to load in the C17 and head across the ocean and a whole lot closer to the equator. Will they be able to push the last week out of their minds as they bring the hammer down on Martins and get intel on Volkov?

They’re an hour into the eleven hour flight from Virginia to Ghana as the team gathers around equipment crates in the forward section of the cargo hold of their C17. Davis has printed out satellite images of the compound spread out for them to review and come up with their attack plan.

“Do we know how many unfriendlies are on site,” Ray asks.

Lisa points on the image. “The four-story building likely has between ten and twenty men. Three to eight men patrol near the women’s buildings. The most movement we’ve seen around the weapons cache is a single intermittent guard and occasionally a vehicle that we assume is picking up or dropping off weapons.”

“Since the weapons cache is far enough away from the nearest women’s building, why don’t we frag that to get their attention and while they’re confused hit the main building to look for Martins,” Clay asks.

Jason stands with his hands on his hips. “Hold on. How are we even sure Martins is there? I’m sure he’s found out about Wilner’s team being captured and killed.”

Lisa crosses her arms over her chest as a smug smile crosses her face. “Actually, we’ve been cautious to avoid letting press know that we captured two of the kidnappers. As far as the world knows they were all killed and their electronics were unsalvageable. As for Martins, Josue said he is always there whenever a new batch of women is brought in so he can have first crack at any he wants.” Her mood sours, but she quickly shakes it off. “Since a large van came through with a delivery yesterday, we’re certain he’s on site. If he sticks with his normal routine, by the time you get to the compound shortly after sundown he’ll be either in his office making deals or locked in his bedroom with one or two victims. Josue claimed he believes the office is on the third floor, but you’ll have to clear the whole building to be certain.”

“What are the ROEs,” Jason asks as he turns to Blackburn.

“Bring back Martins alive, take out the staff indiscriminately, and if you have time you can set the victims free while telling them to stay within the compound as partner forces will arrive shortly.” Blackburn’s smile is infectious to the rest of the team.

“Okay. That makes this easier, then,” Jason says as he claps his hands then rubs them together gleefully. “Clay, I want you on overwatch. As the rest of us head for the front gate I want you to go around the side to this gap in the trees and get on top of the nearest women’s building. That should give you a view of the east side of the main building, cover our entry, and set up a good vantage to take out any guards or squirters you see. Full Metal, go with him and post up within view of the weapons bunker. Don’t let any of them get in there. The rest of us are going to enter through the front gate after Clay takes down the guards then storm the main building, clearing up from the first floor.”

Ray steps up and adds his thoughts. “Keep your eyes open for hidden spaces where he could be hiding, as well as for all sources of intel. Brock, after we clear the main building you’ll post security at the gate; keep Cerberus close in case we need him. After we find Martins I want Trent with me to release the women.”

Jason continues, “Sonny, before the women are released I want you blowing the hell out of that weapons bunker. Full Metal, you’ll secure Martins while we release the women.” Jason pauses as a smile climbs across his lips. “If he ends up with some damage I’m okay with that; but, he has to be kept alive for questioning.” Full Metal nods and smiles mischievously in return. “If there’s a vehicle to commandeer we’ll take it back to our indig; if not, we’re dragging Martins’ ass with us on foot.”

“We’re also sending you with the Raven UAV, again,” Lisa says. “Pop it up when you get close so we can keep an eye on you without alerting the locals or any Russian mercenaries in the area.” She looks directly at Full Metal as she cockily says, “Be kind to the little lady and let me know when you’re ready for me to take her for a ride.”

Full Metal smiles big. “No worries; I know how foreplay works.” The group excitedly groans in response.

“Okay, okay, gentlemen; This isn’t a very long flight, but you’ve got a long night ahead,” Blackburn says. Jason points at him, waiting for the coming catchphrase. “Let’s get some rest.”

“You heard him, boys.” Jason points towards the middle of the plane where a few hammocks have already been hung. “Grab some space and get comfy. In a few hours we’re going to be having some fun and getting some payback for Cymbre and the rest of the women.”

As the team relaxes, Jason sits on a jumpseat towards the back of the plane away from them. He needs a few minutes alone to think. Something is bothering him about this mission, but he can’t quite figure out what it is. It’s more than the situation with Emma and Cymbre; it’s more than how quickly the op came together and was green lit relatively easily. He slides down in the seat with his legs spread wide and closes his eyes. He replays his memory of taking the yacht. He thinks back to questioning Cymbre in the hospital. He sorts through the briefing info from Davis, Mandy, and Trask. The tiny nagging voice in his head won’t dissipate, but he can’t figure out what’s causing it. He senses someone walking up and sitting next to him so he opens his eyes to see Mandy. “Hey,” is all he says.

“Hey,” she responds quietly. “You seem pensive.”

He sighs loudly. “Does this feel too easy to you?”

Mandy snorts in defiance. “Nope. Putting this intel together so quickly was beyond exhausting, so it doesn’t feel easy to me.”

Jason looks at her, annoyed. “I don’t mean easy like a Sunday drive for ice cream. I mean easy like the pieces of the puzzle were all laid out in front of us to grab so we’d overlook that the picture doesn’t match the box.”

She pauses, contemplating the thought. “I’m not sure what could be missing from what we’ve already put together. The surviving kidnappers from Wilner’s team and Amber gave us a lot of information, but only after Cymbre and the random gossip from Rebecca opened the door to the bigger picture and gave us something to lean on them with.” She leans over and bumps her shoulder into his. “Once you get me Martins I’ll be able to press him for info about Volkov. That’s how this game is played.”

“Yeah, I know. Hopefully it’ll be a quick crash and grab without surprises.” Jason closes his eyes again, trying to relax and forget about it. Mandy lightly taps her hand against his thigh before standing, expecting to give him a little space; but, he suddenly sits upright and grabs her hand. “You and Davis didn’t show us any photos of Volkov; why is that?”

Mandy holds his hand for a second enjoying the brief, vaguely intimate contact. “We don’t have any verified photos of him. When we’ve heard chatter that he’s in Russia we tend to just miss him. When we get word that he’s in Africa he doesn’t show up. No one has been able to get a good look at him in years of trying.”

“Did the kidnappers or Amber mention him or what he looks like?” Jason slowly pulls his hand from hers, lightly tickling his fingertips against her palm for a few seconds.

“No, they didn’t appear to know the name Volkov. When I said the name they showed little to no reaction. Cymbre is the only one who mentioned his name. That’s why we want as much intel as we can gather from the site; any information we get on him will be important in figuring out more about him and his wider operation.” Mandy crosses her arms as she looks down at him. “This guy moves between parts of the world so quickly no one has been able to keep up with him.”

Jason considers this information for a few seconds before asking, “Do we know anything about what he looks like? If there’s any chance he’s going to be there I’d prefer to not find out after the fact that we pink misted him.”

“One of the reasons we’ve had trouble getting a photo is that there are conflicting reports describing him. Some say he’s 6’1”, dark blond hair with brown eyes. Others say he’s closer to 5’7”, light brown hair and blue eyes.” She pauses and shifts her weight to look behind her as Sonny, Clay, and Full Metal let out a whoop of uproarious laughter at the other end of the space. “We’re assuming that incorrect information is being disseminated to help keep him hidden; but, we know he has a tattoo of a gun leaning against a cross on the inside of his left forearm. That’s at least consistent.”

“Let’s hope he’s not there then, since me and the boys are planning to take out a little frustration on Martin’s staff.” A smile spreads across his face until he damn near has a twinkle in his eye.

Mandy smiles back as she chuckles and shakes her head. “Just bring me Martins while he’s still able to talk and whatever intel you can find; the rest is up to you.” She turns and walks over by Lisa, sitting next to her as they start to talk.

Jason closes his eyes again, trying to silence the questions in his head.

*****

Shortly after 1430 when the team lands in Accra, Ghana, they load on a transport helo and head for Tumu. As they land on the outskirts of town they’re surprised to find two practically new SUVs parked nearby for them. The brand symbol is a white star on a black background, not one they’re familiar with.

“Whoa. These are way better than a Scooby van,” Sonny says as he appreciatively drags his fingers down the sleek hood of the SUV. He keys his radio. “Hey Ensign Davis, I think General Trask just showed you up on getting us wheels. Were these brought here just for us?”

Lisa scoffs over the radio. “Sonny, those were made here in Ghana. We figured it was better if you looked like rich tourists if you got intercepted, which means playing up the idea that as rich mostly white men you’d want to spend a lot of money on the rental cars while pretending you cared by getting ones made in-country rather than imported. Easier to play for the prejudice than to try to convince anyone you’re missionaries spreading a religious message or some crap like that.” She chuckles lightly. “Also, the suspension on these is made for the rough and uneven roads you’re about to encounter. That way, if you need to Mad Max it out of there you’ll have less of a chance of crashing and needing a rescue.”

Sonny jumps into the driver’s seat of the first SUV. He turns it on and immediately cranks the a/c against the oppressive late afternoon heat and moderate humidity that’s trailing the end of the rainy season, as Ray gets in next to him and Brock puts Cerberus’ cage in the back. “This is definitely going to make the four hour drive much more comfortable,” he says before hopping on the radio again. “My butt could get used to this kind of comfort. Can we take these with us next time we deploy to the sandbox?”

Jason gets in the passenger seat of the second SUV as Trent gets in to drive, leaving Clay and Full Metal to get in the back. “Sonny, if you’re willing to give up lap dances and beer for the rest of your career to pay for that, then we’ll talk,” Jason retorts as he gets comfortable. “If not, let’s focus up and get moving.”

“Well, damn, when you put it like that…” Sonny throws it into drive and hits the gas to complete the thought.

When they reach the border a few minutes later Jason hops on the radio again. “Havoc this is Bravo 1. We pass Amara. No contacts in sight. We’ll be losing comms soon.”

Davis replies, “Havoc copies Amara, Bravo 1. Satellite shows no obstacles in your path at this time. Next contact is in about four hours when you’re ready to launch the Raven for ISR. Enjoy the scenery. Havoc out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus points to anyone who can identify the category for the phase line codes in this mission and how they relate to Seal Team.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bravo's got a solid plan, but plans tend to go a little haywire in Bravo's missions. At least it'll be a comfortable four hour drive. Once on target there will be a lot of moving parts to this operation. Hopefully everyone on Bravo, especially Jason, can keep their focus on the task at hand.

Static. That’s the only way she can describe it. Cymbre’s overwhelmed by the feelings of static jabbing her brain through the darkness. She’s aware of herself, knows she’s not asleep, but she’s not really awake and can’t feel any discernable reality in what she’s experiencing. Nothing about it feels quite right. Gradually she starts to ease back into her body, sensations starting to grow and change. She feels light pressure on her arm for a moment, but she can’t move to determine what it is. Pressure is pushing into her lungs rhythmically, so when she tries to take a deep breath she can’t quite do so. More pressure on her arm comes and this time the world shifts slightly as she feels herself being shaken. She tries to open her eyes, but only the slightest hint of light breaks through the darkness for a second before her eyes snap shut on their own. Cym’s confused and frightened, unsure of what’s happening. All she knows is she has absolutely no control over anything except this tiny little slice of nothingness inside her mind.

Minutes tick by agonizingly slowly as she tries to decide what to do; should she fight her way into full consciousness or fight to stay hidden in the only safe space she’s ever truly had? Muffled voices start to grow as she’s shaken harder. Inside her mind she’s screaming at them to stop shaking her, stop touching her, stop talking around her, and just leave her alone; nothing she can do can stop them. Her name is spoken sharply from a distance and she can’t help but react by forcing her eyes open slightly for just a few seconds. The image snapshot is too confusing to comprehend before her eyelids drift shut again. She focuses on her hands, trying hard to move one finger then another. Wishing she could defend herself from whatever is jammed down her throat and whoever keeps touching her, she slowly bends the fingers of her right hand and tries to lift her arm. Her confusion is powerful and adding to her fear; if only someone would tell her where she is and what’s happening maybe she could gain some semblance of control of her faculties.

“Cymbre, wake up. Open your eyes,” a loud voice demands from overhead.

She mumbles slightly, attempting to tell them she’s trying; except, she can’t because her mouth won’t work. Moving her hands again, she’s able to extend her fingers slightly then curl them back in. That’s a little progress. She tries to open her eyes again, this time seeing a glimpse of blue tubes going to her mouth and non-descript faces floating down from the ceiling before her eyes shut this time. The shaking starts again and she moves her arm slightly trying to pull it away and stop them, but it’s not enough.

“Come on, we need you awake.” The voice is annoyed and forceful this time.

Cymbre tries to force her eyes open and look at the person talking to her. It’s a struggle to keep her gaze on them for more than a few seconds, but she manages to recognize the white coat of a doctor.

“Do you know where you are,” he asks.

She tries to speak, but gags on the tubes instead. She tries to shake her head no, but between the tubes and the brace around her neck she can’t. Starting to panic, her hand slowly raises and tries to grab at the offending objects.

The doctor grabs her hand and pulls it away from her mouth. “Just blink your eyes; once for no and twice for yes.”

She closes her eyes instead, panic continuing to rise within her. She’s shaken again and her eyes snap open, timidly looking at him as she silently begs him to stop touching her.

“Do you know where you are?” He repeats the question. She slowly blinks her eyes once. “You’re in the hospital. Your health is very precarious and you’ve been in a medically induced coma for a few days.” He pauses and leans a little closer to her. “Do you remember what happened to you?”

Cym closes her eyes again trying to search her mind, but her memory is too fogged. At best she has a few flashes of images, but no concrete context presents itself. She opens her eyes and blinks once. She moves her hands up her body slowly, grasping at the neck brace and the tubes, only for the doctor to pull her hands away again.

“Don’t touch those. You need those.” He sets her hands back at her sides. “We woke you up because we need consent to do additional surgeries. You took a blow to the head and neck that has made your medical situation even more dangerous. We’ve had to wait a few days while your abdomen starts to heal before we could lay you face down for the neurosurgery on your neck, and now we need to get this done.” When she looks at him blankly he continues. “You didn’t provide us with anyone as an emergency contact who could make decisions on your behalf, so we needed to wake you up to ask you. If you say no then we’ll offer you the best palliative care we can, but I believe the best option is for us to do this surgery immediately.”

Squeezing her eyes shut tightly, she tries to block out the world. Some nagging part of her brain screams she doesn’t want to understand what’s happening and she trusts that more than she trusts the too many people around her. Suddenly the covers are ripped off of her, letting cold air waft down her already chilled skin and sharp knuckles are roughly dragged along her sternum. She jumps, her arms and legs beginning to thrash weakly as she tries to stop the painful attack before they dislocate a rib. A scream tears into her throat, but is stuck without any means of escape.

“Either you wake up and give us an answer or we have a court order to make decisions on your behalf.” The voice sounds angry now, which only scares her more. Her fingers make contact with skin and as they curl in her nails drag deep. “Ow. Knock that off,” the voice says as her hands are pulled away. “Do that again and you’re getting tied back down,” he threatens.

Panic is beginning to overwhelm her senses. Mashed mountains of memories begin to explode in her head, both recent and distant, dragging in a cacophony of pain. Her eyes flip open and she looks between the faces without actually seeing them, blinking long single blinks over and over again. No. No. Her hands turn in on herself, digging her nails into her thighs and tearing bright red gashes that she can’t feel. No. No. No. No one listens; no one ever listens. No. No. No. No. A needle is pulled out and jabbed into her IV line. As the heavy weighted invisible blanket starts to crush her again her eyes focus in the distance for a brief moment. Black on white; an image she’s seen before, but cannot place. A memory of turquoise eyes drifts over her sight just before her eyes close again and unconsciousness grips her tight to drown her. No.

*****

Bravo team makes good time through southern Burkina Faso, arriving at the outskirts of Koudougou a little earlier than expected. They find the small bridge over a drying riverbed that marks their exit point and drive off-road into a grove of trees to hide the SUVs. With a little camouflage, the vehicles are hidden from sight while still being within fifty meters of the road for a fast getaway. They toss their kits and rucks on over their civvies, but carry their weapons and extra mags in a few duffel bags that are full of clothes in order to hide them. The path they need to take follows the riverbed, coated in drying mud as the rainy season ended a few weeks early, until they meet a dirt road that takes them to the compound. Since they’ll be traveling along the edge of a small village suburb at any moment they could be stopped by someone; better to be able to say their vehicles broke down and they’re trying to find help than to look like invading soldiers. Dusk is descending and they need the darkness, so no rush. They’ll have at least seven hours inside the compound before the sky begins to brighten and they need to be back at the SUVs if not already back on the road heading south.

As the rest of the team finishes covering the SUVs, Jason and Full Metal get ready to launch the Raven. Jason powers it up and keys his radio as it connects. “Bravo 1 to Havoc base: I pass Ketch. How copy?”

“Havoc to 1: I copy Lima Charlie. Sitrep?” Lisa has been patiently waiting for the last half hour to hear from Bravo. The satellite feed has been stationed over the compound throughout the day so she couldn’t keep eyes on the SUVs. Without ISR or a comms connection through the helo they haven’t had any contact so she’s been curious how they were progressing.

“Ready to take control of the Raven, Havoc?” Jason looks at Full Metal as he holds the Raven a little higher, ready to send it flying into the air.

“1 I’ve been ready and waiting for awhile. Let her rip,” Davis says as her hand curls confidently around the joystick.

“Havoc she’s all yours,” Jason says as Full Metal tosses it up into the air and they watch it rise under Davis’ control.

“Bravo 1 be advised the time is 2030. Suggest you take your time to ensure enough darkness to cover your approach.” Davis pauses as she uses the Raven to closely scan the terrain ahead. “There appears to be a big enough grove of trees where the riverbed meets the road nine hundred meters ahead where you can pause and prepare. How copy?”

“Good copy, Havoc. Will take under advisement. Bravo 1 out.” Jason turns to the team. “Should be a nice leisurely walk.” He smiles as they fall in and make their way through the invading darkness as the final remnants of sunlight drift below the horizon, leaving them lit only with the nearly full moon that’s slowly climbing in the sky.

They set a gentle pace, continually scanning the area around them as their feet move quietly in the dry dirt. There’s no reason to believe the townsfolk have any involvement with Martins, but the link to Volkov and Russian mercenaries sent into the area means they cannot be caught unawares. They pass near a few homes about two hundred meters in. There are overlapping conversations and laughing in the distance, wafting out of yards and homes. A woman’s voice rings out into the darkness followed with an acknowledgement by children playing in the open field on the other side of the riverbed.

“Boss?” Sonny asks quietly, wondering what they should do to avoid detection in the wide open space as the children run home to heed their mother’s call.

“Hold. Let’s let this play out,” Jason responds. The team watches as they kids come running near them, slowing to eye them for a moment curiously.

“Hey there. Our vehicles broke down. We’re looking for a mechanic. Can you help?” Jason says, expecting and receiving confused looks from the kids.

The kids move a little closer and Jason can see the pre-teen boy is tossing a soccer ball between his hands while the slightly older girl straightens her clothes and dusts them off. She says something, but Clay informs that it’s in Mossi and “home” is the only word he can pick out. The kids step a little closer to the strangers, eyeing up their strange attire and mostly milky white skin that shines in the moonlight. Clay tries to respond in French, but they don’t understand that either. Finally, Brock steps forward and points to the young boy then mimics juggling the soccer ball. The young boy smiles and kicks it to him, watching as Brock plays with it for a few seconds before kicking it back. Bravo cheers as the two kids smile and laugh then grab their soccer ball and run for home, talking between themselves as they disappear between the buildings. Jason decides it’s too close of a call and they pick up their pace to make it to the next grove of trees where they’ll find a small amount of cover to pull out their weapons, stock their kits with mags and explosives, and ditch the duffel bags. It’s another seven hundred fifty meters of wide open dirt road closely flanked by homes and small businesses between them and the compound. It’s a risk to jock up even then, but there’s nowhere closer that offers any reasonable cover. The last things they put on are helmets and drop their NODs.

Jason checks his watch. “2055 means go time, brothers.” The team falls in line, quickly making their way down the road while watching for movement in and around the houses. Luckily they meet no resistance and soon Clay and Full Metal are breaking off to cut through the fencing in a small open space within the tree-line to get on overwatch. The rest of the team continues another two hundred meters to the main gate of the property and wait.

“Bravo 6 to Bravo 1: I pass Bobby.” It’s only taken a few minutes for Clay and Full Metal to take up their positions. Clay is stretched out along the back side of the roof of the eastern-most women’s barracks, his HK416 sniper rifle scanning the compound for anyone wandering between buildings. Seeing no other guards or movement, he settles his scope on the two guards near the front entrance.

Sonny makes his way near the front gate, looking at the locking mechanism. Quietly he pokes his head and hands around the edge, setting a small charge on the lock. He then steps back, waiting for his cue to blow it. “Set,” he says to Jason behind him.

“Havoc this is 1: We pass Castiel. Break. 6 on you,” Jason says over the radio. Seconds later they can hear the dull thump of bullets hitting their mark in two bodies nearby, followed by Clay radioing all clear. “Execute, execute, execute,” Jason calls as Sonny blows the lock then shoves the metal gate aside for the team to quickly rush into the compound.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cymbre is clearly struggling, but she's alive. Bravo is on target and about to make entry. What are they going to find inside the large compound? Clay took out the guards and Sonny opened the gate. The secrets inside are about to be revealed.

Naima is making dinner for her and the kids when Emma calls. For a moment she worries that something else has happened, but she answers the phone holding onto hope that it’s good news instead. “Hey, Emma. How are things?”

“Hi Aunt Naima. I’m doing okay. I just wanted to let you know that the police chief called me a little bit ago. He said charges are filed on the guy and his buddies and they’ve been booked into jail. He also assured me there will be no charges filed against me for defending myself.” Emma’s smile can be heard in her voice. “He said he’d like to work with me on getting a restraining order against the guy if he gets bail. Obviously Mandy’s pull has made an impression on him.”

“That’s great, honey. I’m glad he’s doing exactly what should’ve been done from the start. How about the officer? Is there any word on his suspension?” Naima steps back from the stove, taking a seat for a moment.

“The chief said there will be a strongly written reprimand put in his file and he’ll be sent to some extra training, but he doesn’t believe he’ll be able to fire him without the union stepping in and forcing him back on duty.” Emma sighs quietly. “It’s better than nothing.”

Naima wishes there was more that could be done to ensure the creep, his buddies, and even the cop will be held accountable, but this is at least a step in the right direction. Just then, Jameelah steps around the corner. “Hey sweetie, would you like to say hi to Emma?” She hands her daughter the phone as she turns back to the stove.

“Hi Emma. Guess what?” Jameelah’s excitement radiates.

“Hi Jameelah. What’s up?” Emma happily obliges.

“I made a new friend today at school. His name is Johnny and he just moved here.” She takes a moment as she looks up at her mom. “I told him I’ll only be his friend if he’s nice to me and he said he would.”

Emma smiles at the young girl’s naïve bravery. “That’s great. I hope you’re friends with him for a long time.”

“Me too.” Jameelah pauses before her voice quiets to ask a hard, but important question. “Is it enough for me to ask him to be nice?”

Grasping her phone a little tighter, Emma takes a deep breath. When she was little she never worried if she was going to be hurt by a classmate or anyone else, but in the last few years since her mom died the thought that maybe she should’ve been better warned of the dangers in her own backyard has crossed her mind. “There’s always a chance you’ll have a disagreement or an argument with a friend, but as long as you can be kind to each other then you can stay friends. If anything happens and you feel bad, that’s when you tell someone else so we can help you decide what to do, okay? That’s what your mom did for me.”

Jameelah considers the answer for a few moments before accepting it. “I think it’s going to be okay just like you’re okay now.” She walks back over and taps her mom’s arm. “Here’s Mom.” She hands the phone back to her mom then leaves the room to play with her little brother.

“You know, she’s been worried about you and worried if someone could hurt her and me. I’m glad she gets to learn from how brave you’ve been,” Naima says gently to Emma. “By the way, is the bruise healing well?” She turns and walks to where she can look at her kids playing together in the living room as she silently hopes that when her kids are Emma’s age the world will be a better, safer, and more just place.

Emma gently touches her fingertips to her cheek, feeling no lasting pain. “It’s gone down a lot. A few more days and it’ll be gone. I’ve been able to keep it mostly covered up so I’m not getting a lot of bad attention for it around campus.”

“Good. So things are going well in your classes, then? Life’s getting back to normal?” Life hasn’t truly been normal for Emma, Jason, and Mike since Alana died; but, one thing the kids deserve is to feel safe in a world where awful things happen too often. As an ER nurse, Naima has seen a lot of awful, but also knows there’s so much opportunity for hope that the future is still bright for the budding singer and her hopeful hockey star brother as well as for her own young daughter and toddler son.

Emma looks at the textbook on the history of music since the 1950s that’s lying open on the desk in front of her. She doesn’t want to admit it’s been hard focusing on school after what happened, but knowing the worst of the worry from this ordeal is now behind her will hopefully change that. It’ll be a year or two before they end up in court over what happened and she knows she’ll have the support of everyone around her the whole time. “I think things will feel much more normal, soon. Speaking of, I’m still three chapters behind in this book so I need to get back to studying. Thanks for always being there for me, Aunt Naima. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I love you, Emma. Take good care of yourself.” Naima hears a pot on the stove start to bubble a little too much. “If you need anything else feel free to call anytime, but right now I’ve got to get back to making dinner,” she chuckles before they hang up.

*****

Clay pops a round off at a guard who stands up near one of the other barracks as the team smoothly and quickly infils into the compound. They pause outside the four-story building and he quickly scans the windows for any guards. He continues to the rest of the compound, looking for anyone heading towards the building that could sneak up behind his teammates while their NODs are up to prepare to enter the well-lit interior. A minute later there’s a blast as Sonny detonates a breaching charge and blows the unfortified door off its hinges. He hears Full Metal pop off a round towards the munitions bunker and quickly peeks around the scope to watch the body drop under the bright moonlight through his NOD.

“Bravo 1 to Havoc: We pass Dean,” Jason radios as the team starts to file in the main door of the large building.

Inside, the team quickly clears the first floor of empty small rooms sparsely furnished with twin and bunk beds, then head upstairs. On the second floor they find a large room, appearing to be a dining hall, where they toss in crashes and drop at least a dozen bodies quickly after having caught them in the middle of a meal and unable to get to their weapons stored in the bedrooms or the weapons cache outside. On the third floor they find an ornately designed office that’s unoccupied, which they plan to return to later after Brock grabs a man’s shirt from the floor, assuming it’s Martins’.

As they near the fourth floor they hear women scream, followed by yelling and a door slamming. Brock shows the shirt to Cerberus, letting the hair missile get Martins’ scent. The dog takes off running towards the other end of the hall with Brock and Sonny right behind him. Trent posts guard on the staircase as Ray and Jason watch the two other doors in the hallway. Brock opens the unlocked door, letting Cerberus inside to find a well-designed and comfortable master bedroom suite with a king bed, a large bathroom, an open closet full of expensive men’s suits and clothing, and several heavy chains with cuffs attached to the wall in an otherwise empty corner. They watch the dog sniff around the room, slightly confused by the overwhelming scents left behind by sweaty bodies and colognes. He finally goes to the wall next to the bed and barks loudly then paws at it. When Brock pulls Cerberus back Sonny finds it’s a hidden door. He radios Jason to ask if they should follow the dark staircase that goes down the side of the building, only for Jason to tell Brock to keep Cerberus there as they clear the other rooms first.

Sonny exits the room and steps in front of Jason, mule-kicking the nearest locked door open. The inside room is sparse of furniture and undecorated, mostly consisting of three pallet beds with chained cuffs attached and makeshift bathroom facilities – more like chamber pot style buckets – sitting nearby that appear to have not been emptied in a day or two. After ensuring the room is empty they exit and move to the last door, which is also locked. Sonny kicks it open, sending splinters of wood at the two naked women inside. The room is furnished similar to the first bedroom, but includes an intricately designed dressing table, which matches the bed and dresser, instead of a closet. Cowering on the floor next to the bed, the terrified women scream and cry, one clutching the other, as their shakes send the chains attached to their wrists into a frenzy that echoes their hysterics.

“Is there anyone else in the room,” Jason demands of the women who cry out again and turn their faces away from him. “Do you understand me?” When they don’t respond he squats next to them, grabbing the chin of the woman closest to him to look at her face as she squeezes her eyes shut with tears falling quickly down her dirty cheeks. The other woman tries to pull her companion away from him, but he rips her arms away and takes in the first woman’s appearance closely. She appears southern European and under the dirt that’s streaked over her golden skin she’s slightly sunburned on her arms, legs, and face. “Look at me,” he says, a little more gentle as he looks at her tangled mess of hair. She tries to cover her face with her hands, speaking what sounds like Italian. He lets go of her face and turns his attention to the other woman, but she pushes away from him with unexpected strength. Her ivory skin isn’t nearly as dirty and shows not a hint of sunburn; her hair is only slightly rumpled and there doesn’t appear to be a visible mark on her. Yet she won’t let him get his hand on her chin so he can look at her. Jason had silently hoped if he found a stray American in the group it’d give them an excuse to call in reinforcements or at least stay behind until the partner forces move in; unfortunately, so far no such luck.

“Boss, let’s leave them here for now. We should have plenty of time to come back and release them,” Ray says from the other side of the room. “Gotta focus on the HVT.”

“Okay,” Jason says as he stands. “You’ll be okay for now,” he says a little more gently to the two women before quickly turning on his heel and stalking out the door. “Ray and Trent I want you on SSE, especially in that office, while Cerberus leads Brock, Sonny, and me looking for Martins. Keep your heads on a swivel.” He keys his radio. “1 to 6: We’re splitting up into two teams in here. Any movement out there?” As he waits for a response he follows Brock into the hidden staircase with Sonny on his heels.

“Bravo 6 to 1: We’ve taken down four guards out here. All quiet for now,” Clay responds as he does another quick scan of the women’s buildings before settling back into his scope to look closely around the larger building.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankfully Emma's doing okay, unlike Cymbre. Bravo is inside and have taken down a lot of Tangos quickly, found two victims, and are about to send Cerberus after Martins. So far, so good. Can they keep this mission on track now that they've wiped out most or all of the opposition?

Brock listens for a signal from Cerberus as the dog runs ahead down the dark and narrow staircase. When they get to the third floor he sees a closed doorway. He slows for a moment on the landing to get on the radio. “5 to 2: This passage appears to have a door that opens into the office, and maybe elsewhere, so be alert. Cerberus continued past so it’s unlikely Martins returned there.” On the second floor there’s another door, and again on the first. Cerberus barks loudly in the distance and Brock raises his weapon, hopefully ready for whatever’s waiting for them. Suddenly there’s a loud growl that echoes up the staircase as Cerberus attacks, followed by a man’s yelp and scream, and Brock races down the stairs below ground. He pauses at the bottom of the staircase until he feels Jason’s hand squeeze his shoulder, letting him know that his two teammates are right behind him. He rounds the corner and sees Cerberus yanking hard at a man’s leg. Martins is standing on top of a large metal safe a few feet away from the opposite corner of the small basement room, trying to get away from the vicious teeth; but, he can’t shake Cerberus off. The HVT’s hands are pressed against the ceiling to try to keep himself steady against the dog’s powerful strength as he yelps in pain again. Brock aims his rifle at Martins until Jason and Sonny are in the room and have their weapons also trained on him; then he calls off Cerberus, praising and patting him on the head before hooking his leash back up.

“Get down! Get on your knees!” Jason yells, his voice echoing around the small basement room lit only by a single bulb. Martins curiously keeps his palms pressed on the ceiling, ignoring Jason’s commands. While it’s obvious he’s not holding a trigger for an s-vest, his actions are too odd to ignore. “Get down now!” As Martins’ gaze connects with his, an odd shiver streaks across Jason’s skin. “3: Check him and get him down,” he growls as he takes a step back with his rifle aimed between the trafficker’s eyes.

Sonny releases the hold on his weapon and cautiously steps forward, reaching out to drag his hands up Martins’ legs through thin pants and across his abdomen through a thin collared dress shirt, finding no weapons. “He’s clean.” Sonny then reaches up to grab the trafficker’s waist in an effort to haul him down to the ground.

“You don’t want to do that,” Martin’s Brazilian Portuguese accent is moderate and lightened from decades of traveling the globe, but the sing-song nature of his tone is haunting.

Sonny pauses. “Boss?”

Jason straightens his spine as he pushes power into his voice while lowering the volume. “I told you to get your ass down. Comply or I’ll let the dog rip your damn legs off.” Cerberus growls loudly and pulls against the leash, as if egging Jason on to give the order.

Martins chuckles. “If you force me down you’ll regret it.”

Sonny cautiously walks around the side of the safe, looking for evidence of wires or sensors under the man’s feet. He drags his feet on the floor behind the back of the safe then looks up at the ceiling. Without a word he looks to Jason and shakes his head, indicating he sees nothing dangerous or concerning.

Unconvinced there’s nothing to worry about, yet unconvinced Martins is doing anything except stalling and playing mind games, Jason pushes deeper into the room. Nothing in the intel had suggested any use of bombs or explosive ordinance, but with the wide range of weapons that he’s had access to as well as the known connection to Russia anything could be possible. Besides, if there was a bomb, why wouldn’t he have set it off already? This feels more like a childish game than anything, so Jason decides to skip the challenges and goes straight for the triple dog dare: he pulls out his Glock 19 and aims at Martins’ crotch. His voice is deadly calm as he says, “Get down now or I’ll use a few bullets to remove your dangly bits and feed them to you while you open this damn safe and hand over all your secrets.”

For a moment Martins’ smile fades slightly, only to then brighten again. “I don’t have the code; only Volkov does.”

“Volkov will get what’s coming to him soon enough. Right now, you’re done. There’s no way for you to escape.” Jason is getting sick of this game, but the trafficker is just high enough that the only option for him to be brought down unwillingly is to take his legs out from under him, which in such a small space would likely include Jason getting kicked in the face or Martins possibly getting his skull cracked open on some hard surface. They need him alive and coherent for the best chance to squeeze info about Volkov out of him and he doesn’t want to risk him or his teammates getting kicked in the head in the process.

Martins’ eyes get large for a split second then he laughs heartily. “Even if you find him you’ll never get your hands on him,” he spews. “You’ll definitely never get him and this safe in the same room together.”

“5: Keep on him,” Jason says as he takes another step closer and holsters his Glock. He looks up at Martins and says, “3: Knees.” Sonny instantly punches forward with his forearms slamming into the back of Martins’ knees then quickly pulls back to ensure Martins’ won’t hit his head on anything as his body comes crumbling down, while Jason readies to pull Martins’ legs under control.

Except Martins only falls about a foot. As he does, his arms drop from the ceiling and expose a thin wire garrote hidden under the collar of his shirt, twisted behind his head, and its ends tied into an exposed section of wooden rafter. The full weight of his body now pulling on it, the wire is quickly burying into his neck and before the team realizes he’s stopped falling there’s already blood rapidly dripping from the gash in his neck. A wet gurgle is the last sound Martins makes as it slowly pulls deeper into his throat. Jason tries to jump up on the safe and lift the body before it’s too late, but it doesn’t help; the wire is already embedded too deep. He’s dead too quickly for them to do anything else.

“Damn it!” Jason yells as he jumps off the safe, careful to not slip in the growing pool of blood on the concrete floor. He looks to his teammates as Brock lowers his rifle and Sonny steps back around to the front of the safe and contemplates the ridiculous scene. “Well, that’s a new one,” Jason says, frustration and dismay obvious in his voice. He gets on the radio, annoyance dripping from his words as he reports, “Havoc this is 1: I call Billie.” He pauses for a moment and attempts a quick calming breath.

Blackburn responds. “This is Havoc. Copy Billie, Bravo 1. What the hell happened?”

“Havoc: Martins practically decapitated himself,” Jason responds. He turns and punches the wall behind him, mad at himself for knowing something weird was going on yet not expecting this. He tosses behind him, “Brock get biometrics then you and Cerberus pull security at the gate while the weapons are destroyed and the women are released. Sonny get that safe open.”

“Got it,” Brock says as he moves in, pulls out his phone to get a few photos of Martins’ face for TOC, then directs Cerberus back upstairs.

“1 to 2: How’s it coming on that intel?” Jason looks closely around the small room, but other than the safe and the bad guy piñata there’s no evidence of anything else of worth.

Sonny pulls out his flashlight to get a better look at the door on the safe to decide how best to open it. “We didn’t bring the quickie saw, but Alpha 1 has the single torch.”

“Bravo 2 to Bravo 1: I pass Charlie. We’ve got a lot here. We’re going to head back up to release the two hostages and meet you outside,” Ray responds.

Blackburn jumps on the radio again. “Havoc copies Charlie, Bravo 2.”

Jason stands at the bottom of the staircase as he rubs his hand over his face in frustration. Looking up at the dark staircase, he keys his radio. “Bravo 1 to Havoc: We’ve got a slight delay. We’ve got a safe to open.” He turns back towards Sonny. “Better yet, leave it. Move to the next phase-line. I need you blowing the weapons bunker then helping me release the women. Let Full Metal clear out the safe.”

Sonny gets on the radio. “Bravo 3 to Alpha 1: We need the single torch in the main building.”

“3 this is Alpha 1: Moving now.” Full Metal takes a last look around the compound then jogs over to main building.

“Havoc to Bravo 1: You’ve been on target for over an hour. You have less than 6 hours until sun-up. Advise you finish SSE, release the women, and plan to make it to the border early. No sense in hanging around risking trouble.” Eric is disappointed in the outcome, but it would be even worse if they got caught for nothing.

Jason takes one last look at Martins’ body dangling from the ceiling before heading up the stairs with Sonny on his six, slamming through the hidden doorway into the first floor. “Good copy Havoc. We should be halfway back to the border by sunrise at the latest.” As Sonny turns on his head lamp and heads out towards the weapons cache, Jason pauses just inside the main door to meet up with Full Metal and direct him to the basement. Back on the radio Jason calls, “1 to 6: Anything we need to worry about out there?”

“Bravo 1 this is 6: No signs of additional Tangos out here. Fence line appears clear.” Clay checks the areas of the women’s buildings that he can see with his scope then returns back to the main building where he scans the windows. When he gets to the fourth floor he sees a few shadows in one room. “6 to 2: Are you in the fourth floor green side window?”

“Bravo 2 to 6: Yeah that’s us.” Ray steps closer to the window and pulls down the curtain, allowing Clay to see him more fully. He then returns to the women as Trent pulls out bolt cutters. Kneeling, he’s gentler than Jason was with them. “You’re safe now.” The women pull away from him. “We’re going to free you, but you need to stay here in the compound until local forces come to get you.” He doubts they understand him, but just in case he’s going to say it anyways. He looks at the one nearest to him, taking in her dirty skin and ruined hair. “Give me your hands,” he holds out his hands, miming what he wants her to do. She looks at his hands then at hers, cautiously holding her arms out until the bolt cutters move closer; she yelps and pulls her arms back in, trying to scoot away from them only to run into her companion. Ray gently takes her hands and pulls them towards him, giving just enough space so Trent can cut the chains close to the cuffs. When she realizes she’s free she looks between the two men and breathes heavily, then bends forward onto her hands and knees to crawl past them awkwardly. She’s overly skinny and appearing relatively frail, as if she’s been subjected to too much torture for far too long, and both guys wonder how long she’s been inside the compound. When she gets a few feet away she stumbles to her feet and runs out of the room without looking back. “Bravo 2 to all Bravo elements: Hotel 1 is running out the door.” They then turn their focus to the other woman. Ray’s curious when he sees that she’s not nearly as bad off as the first woman and even has makeup on that’s partially streaked and smeared; she must be one of the new arrivals. He takes her hands and pulls them forward, holding her while Trent cuts her loose. As the chain is cut Ray notices a dark mark on the inside of her arm and gently twists her hand to try to get a look. She pulls her arms away as soon as she’s free and immediately stands, her more rounded and healthy form running past them and out the door. “All Bravo: Hotel 2 released,” he says over the radio. He turns to Trent, trying to lighten the mood. “Least they could’ve done would’ve been to try to thank us,” he says with a cocked grin knowing they never actually expected that from women who’ve been trafficked there from all around the world.

“Let’s just hope they let the others know we’re the good guys and get the message they need to stay here until those partner forces Trask promised finally show up,” Trent responds as he puts the bolt cutters back in his ruck and follows Ray out of the room, downstairs, and out of the building. They head towards the barracks Clay is still perched on, which is nearest the weapons cache, and start to examine the door to decide how to make entry.

In the basement Jason can hear the light footsteps running overhead, followed soon by heavier steps as he and Full Metal roughly rip Martins down from the ceiling then toss the trafficker’s carcass to the side to allow clear access to the safe. “Get whatever you can out of that.” Jason huffs loudly as he leaves Metal to the task and heads outside, pausing as he hears an excited yell over the radio.

“All Bravo: Fire in the hole! Fire in the hole! Fire in the hole,” Sonny laughs heartily before he drops from the radio. A second later there’s a muffled explosion rumbling the ground as dirt and debris jumps a few feet in the air and the top of the mostly underground munitions bunker collapses. Sonny gets back on the radio. “Havoc this is Bravo 3: I call Ghostfacers.”

Clay peeks over to watch Sonny as he holds his hand in front of his face, curls his fingers into a fist, and pulls it down as he calls ‘Ghostfacers’ then whoops and chortles. Clay smiles and shakes his head, chuckling as he gets back on the scope for another look around the compound. “6 to 3: Hellhounds and hand grenades, brother.”

“Bravo team focus up,” Jason calls over the radio as he pauses to turn on his head lamp and wait for Sonny to join him. “1 to 5: Keep an eye out for anyone coming to check out that explosion.” Jason looks towards Brock who’s on security near the front gate a few dozen feet away; as the handler acknowledges the order Cerberus gives a sharp bark alongside him. Jason smiles, glad the war dog understood the order, too.

Jason and Sonny head towards the western most women’s barracks, examining it. The three buildings each have a metal frame with plywood walls that have a foot of wire mesh just under the edges of the roof for ventilation, albeit inadequate for such a hot climate. Razor wire is attached to the mesh and also lying mostly loose where the walls meet the ground, everywhere except at the fortified metal door. Any woman who could find a way out through the mesh or plywood would be chewed up by it. The door handle has a key lock, but a secondary keypad deadbolt is above it, making sure someone would need both a key and the code to get in.

“Havoc to Bravo 1: Be advised: ISR shows what appears to be townspeople amassing a block away. Suggest you run quiet and see if they steer clear.” Davis brings the Raven a little higher, searching to see any evidence of weapons or a coordinated effort to storm the gate. Considering what was happening inside that compound and who was running it, hopefully the townspeople know enough to leave them to their task rather than get involved.

“Copy Havoc. All elements hold what you’ve got.” Jason and Sonny duck behind the building, cutting their head lamps and dropping their NODs. Jason watches as the few other lights on the ground go out, too. There are still lights on in the main building and few lights on near the front gate, which would be normal for this time of night. Hopefully nothing appears significantly different to the townspeople and they assume the explosion was something they should pretend didn’t happen.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Martins is dead, but they've collected some intel. Is it enough to salvage the op so they still have a chance to find Volkov? The weapons are blown and buried under rubble. Two women have been released and they're poised to release the rest, but what are the townspeople going to do about all of this?

A few minutes pass in silence as the team waits to see what the townspeople are going to do. “1 to Havoc: Sitrep,” Jason quietly calls over the radio.

Davis makes another pass with the Raven, looking closely at the heat signatures. “Bravo 1: I have what appears to be a small group moving slowly towards the front gate. The rest seem to have retreated into their homes.”

A loud metallic rattle and dull thumping suddenly sounds at the barracks Jason and Sonny are standing behind. “1 to 6: What’s that noise?”

Clay shifts his rifle in the darkness, looking for the source of the sound. “6 to 1: Looks like a woman is trying to open the door.”

Jason creeps up the side of the building and peers around the corner to see one of the women from inside the main building trying hopelessly to rip the door open. He watches the woman yank on the door handle and pound on the keypad, frustrated she can’t get inside. She yells out in Italian and he knows if she continues she’ll draw more unwanted attention from the townspeople. He rushes up behind her, wraps his left arm around her bare midsection, and puts his right hand over her mouth. The griminess of her unwashed skin makes it difficult for him to keep a tight hold on her. Dragging her backwards as she tries to rip his hands off, he pulls her into the dark behind the building as she struggles against his strength. “Sonny, shine your light on me,” he says as he tries to keep her steady and quiet without suffocating her. Jason starts to whisper in her ear, “Shh. We’re here to rescue you, but you need to be quiet. Shhh.” When Sonny turns his light on, Jason loosens his grip around her waist and tries to turn her so she can see his face while still silencing her mouth, but she’s fighting too much to let her go. He tries to remove his hand, but she starts to scream so he has to cover her mouth again. “Damn it. Sonny ask Clay how to tell her ‘be quiet we’re here to rescue you’ in French. Maybe we’ll get lucky.” When Clay responds Sonny haltingly repeats the words. She looks at him confused, but stops fighting and quiets. Jason slides his hand from her mouth and turns her towards him. “We’re American soldiers. Shh. You must be quiet.”

She says something in Italian and Sonny butchers it as he repeats it for Clay, who responds that he believes she’s saying her sister is inside. She repeats herself and grabs Jason’s and Sonny’s arms, pulling them towards the door.

“Havoc this is 1: Where are we at with the townspeople? We’ve got a woman here who seems desperate to get her sister rescued.” Jason puts his finger to his mouth, shushing her again as they stand fast so she can’t pull them out into the light.

Blackburn jumps on the radio. “Havoc to 1: They appear to be stopped about 75 meters away from the front gate. How do you want to play it?”

Jason motions for Sonny to check out the door as he pulls the woman closer to him, holding her tightly while she continues to push and pull against him. “What will it take to get these doors open?”

“Bravo 3 to Bravo 4: Where are you on determining entry?” Sonny figures they can pick the handle lock easily, but they don’t have the time or tech to be able to quickly break the code on the deadbolt lock. Even if the code happened to be somewhere in the paperwork and tech they just grabbed, it could be weeks before they deciphered it. With so many innocents crammed behind fortified doors they can’t use any standard breaching charges that might hurt them.

“Bravo 4 to 3: Looks like a small shaped charge on the door frame around the locks should blow it out without risking harm to anyone inside.” Trent has been examining the lock on the building he and Ray are poised to enter, waiting silently until they’re clear to open it.

Jason holds the woman back from him slightly so he can get on the radio. “All elements I call Harvelle. I’m calling an audible. Bravo 5: Keep our exfil secure while Havoc watches the rest of the compound for movement. 2, 3, and 4: Do simultaneous breaching of the barracks. 6: It’s about to be chaos in here; get ground level and try communicating with the women. Alpha 1: Finish that safe and get back topside with me before things get dicey.” He pauses and looks down at the woman who stares at him, confused. He leads her a few steps back and grabs her hands, putting them over her ears then mimes the same on himself. All team members sound off on comms acknowledging the orders. Two minutes later Clay is rushing towards Jason’s side as Ray, Sonny, and Trent radio in the charges are set. “On me, Bravo. 3, 2, 1, blow,” Jason calls over comms. The three small charges pop, allowing each of the three operators a quick entrance. Jason holds the woman back before she can run in front of Sonny while he focuses in the distance to where Ray is entering another barracks.

Ray can barely breathe through the stench of overheated, unwashed bodies as he enters the building he’s to clear. The women are unchained, but cowering in their racks that are 3 beds high and crammed close together. Looking through his NOD he can see their scraps of clothing are torn and dirty, their hair is either roughly chopped or a tangled mess, and several appear feverish and sick as they struggle to move with the throng of terrified bodies pushing back away from the invader. In the corner he notices two children, possibly a pre-teen boy and girl, and he struggles to keep his focus on clearing the space. Once he verifies no Tangos in the room, he flips up his NOD and turns on his head lamp so the women can see his face. “Does anyone speak English,” he calls out as his eyes adjust. A few heads turn quickly towards him, but they don’t respond. He continues anyways, assuming at least one understood him. “We’re American Military. The men holding you have been neutralized. Do you understand?” Again he sees movement alluding to some comprehension, yet no one speaks. “We’re releasing you, but we need you to stay in this compound until additional help arrives.” He pauses as he watches a few confused expressions while others briefly show hints of hope. As he looks around the room he realizes the lack of hygiene and physical care these women have endured is so profound that there’s no way they could’ve all handled even the trip back to the Ghanaian border; Trask seems to have been correct that it’s for the best to release and leave them here for partner forces to care for. He turns to one woman who appears to understand him and he holds his hand out to her. “You can all come out of this building and get some fresh air, but you must stay nearby until our friends arrive to evacuate you.”

The woman cautiously takes his hand and carefully pulls herself upright. Her English includes a thick Spanish accent as she questions, “We will be freed?”

“Yes, ma’am.” The words are barely out of Ray’s mouth when she turns and tells others in Spanish. Others translate the statement into additional languages until about half of them seem willing to believe what’s happening. “You’re free to step outside, but please stay close.” The captives slowly start to exit the dark, hot, rancid dwelling and step into the cooler moonlit air. They begin to intermingle with the captives emerging from the other two barracks, cautious sounds of relief lilting through the air as the freed captives begin to find others who speak the same languages or have met each other before. “Bravo 2 to Havoc: We pass Donna.”

Clay addresses the group. “We’re US military. The men running this compound have been killed. Our African partner forces will be arriving within a few hours to evacuate you from this place, tend to your needs, and send you back to your home countries. You must remain near this compound for them to find you.” He then repeats the statement in several other languages.

Davis calls out over the radio. “Havoc to Bravo 1: Be advised: the townspeople are approaching the front gate.”

“Alpha 1 to Bravo 1: Safe is open. Got paperwork, photos, and drives. Moving to you.” Full Metal books it up the stairs and pauses just inside the doorway of the main building as he flips down his NOD and raises his rifle before getting back on the horn. “Alpha 1 to Havoc: I pass Jody. Main building empty and cleared.”

Jason, Ray, Sonny, Trent, and Clay herd the women further back in the compound, away from the crowd gathering just outside the gate. They don’t know what the townspeople plan to do and don’t want to take any chances. Jason then grabs Clay and leads him towards the front gate, Full Metal falling in behind them, ready to take defensive positions. A few minutes later three men step forward from the group of townspeople and approach the gate as Jason, Clay, Brock, and Full Metal train their rifles on them, calling for them to halt. Once they can see the men are unarmed, Clay lowers his rifle and steps forward, speaking with them in French to learn that the townspeople have been concerned about what they believed was happening within the compound. They’ve wanted to remove the evil people from their town for years. Clay assures them that all of the men are dead, the women have been set free, and African forces will be there in a few hours to clear out the compound permanently. Then he gets a shocking and strange response. Clay turns to Jason, giving him an odd look. “What is it? What did they say,” Jason asks.

“They’re grateful the traffickers are dead, but they’re asking what will happen to the woman who trains the victims.” Clay doesn’t know what to make of the question, for they know nothing about a woman being directly involved in the operations.

“What do they mean? Ask them what they’ve seen,” Jason demands.

Clay asks the men then turns back to Jason. “They say a powerful white woman who speaks multiple languages has been traveling in and out of the compound with groups of victims for years. Apparently she’s been seen training and abusing naked women in the courtyard where the children in town can see through the fencing, even after the townspeople had demanded it stop. They believe she’s also is in charge of bringing the women into the main building for Martins and his staff to brutalize regularly.”

Jason turns away from the townspeople and yells into the radio, “Bravo 1 to Havoc: We’re being notified by locals that we have a second HVT, a woman, who oversees the trafficking operations. Why didn’t we know anything about this?” He’s clearly angry, as he has around 100 women mulling around the courtyard right now and any one of them could be the wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Davis replies, “Bravo 1: Nothing in the intel suggested a woman was involved. Advise you to dig deeper before leaving.”

“Yeah, no kidding, Havoc,” Jason snaps back over the radio. “Brock on me. We’re going wolf hunting.” Jason leaves Clay and Full Metal at the front gate as Brock and Cerberus come running behind him to follow back into the main building. “Remember the three rooms upstairs? One was Martins’. One was obviously for holding victims for his use. The third could have been set up for a woman.” He bounds up the staircase to the fourth floor, Cerberus and Brock hot on his trail. He looks around the room at the top of the main stairs before going to the dresser to pull open drawers, finding expensive women’s clothing folded neatly inside all of them. “Grab something for Cerberus to get a scent. We need to find this bitch.” As Brock looks for something likely recently worn, Jason gets back on the radio. “Bravo 1 to 2: What happened to the second woman you released from the bedroom? Did you see where she went?” As he waits for a response he looks at the nearby window, it’s fancy curtains dangling where Ray had pulled them down. He walks over and yanks open the window then returns to the drawers, grabs as much clothing as he can hold, and throws it all out the window.

“Bravo 2 to Bravo 1: She ran out the door when we released her. Thought she would’ve headed out of the building. You didn’t see her come outside?” Ray’s busy trying to calm the large group of women at the back of the compound while he, Trent, and Sonny look them over for any immediate medical needs they can help with.

“This is 6: I didn’t see her exit before I came down,” Clay responds over the radio.

With the drawers empty of clean clothes, Jason looks around the room again before looking back at Brock, who’s holding up a blouse and shorts he just found shoved deep under the bed. “She must be hiding in this building.” He gets back on the radio again. “2 and 3: I want you in the main building to help with the search. Cerberus is going to flush her out. Break. 4: Once we’ve got her you can send whatever women need clothing to the main building green side. There’s a whole pile out there.” He nods to Brock as the handler holds the clothing out for the hair missile to get the scent. Cerberus is soon on the trail, heading towards the larger bedroom again. Jason takes the main staircase down to the third floor, watching in case she pops out, while Ray and Sonny double time it inside to take the second and first floor.

Brock releases the leash as they enter the back staircase again, hurrying to keep up with his partner in the tight space. When Cerberus gets to the door at the third floor he barks loudly and paws at it as he impatiently waits for Brock to turn the round handle so the dog can get at his target. “5 to 1: Third floor.” The door opens into a small, dark hiding space and as Cerberus darts inside there’s a screech and thumps as limbs fly to try in vain to stop the attack. Hands shove open a hidden doorway, exposing the woman’s now clothed body to the bright overhead light in the office. Jason rushes into the room and grabs her as Brock calls off Cerberus.

Jason yanks her roughly by her wrists, dragging her face down onto a rug in the middle of the room. She fights to free her arms and tries to get onto her knees, but he clamps his right hand over both her wrists so he can call over the radio. “1 to 2: Could use you in the office.” Just as she almost gets one wrist free he drops to his knees and uses both of his hands to push hers into the rug while Brock yanks her ankles back so she’s lying prone. She’s fighting hard against them, but even as fit as she is she’s no real match for their powerful strength. As Ray runs into the room, Jason calls to him, “Get some flexcuffs on her. She’s a wiggly one.” Once her outstretched arms are cuffed they pull her up until she’s seated on the floor with Jason holding the flexcuff between her wrists with one hand. As Ray pulls her head back, Jason gets a photo of her face to send to Davis and Mandy back at TOC. “So it turns out you’ve understood us the whole time. Guess that explains why you didn’t want me to see your face,” Jason says as he stares down at her menacingly. “You assumed we’d be able to tell you weren’t really a captive.”

“J, get a photo of her left arm, too. I bet it’ll help identify her,” Ray says as he grabs her upper arm and pulls it out away from her body so Jason can get a good look.

Jason grabs her wrist and twists her arm harshly. As he sees the tattoo he pulls her arm up closer to get a good look at the intricate design showing an AS Val Russian-made rifle leaning against a cross made of twisted vines covered with thorns. Shocked, he briefly shoots a look at Ray while keying his radio. “Bravo 1 to Havoc: I pass Sam. We’ve got Volkov.”


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Volkov is slippery. If it wasn't for the final clue from the brave men who risked it all to approach the compound Jason wouldn't have known to go wolf hunting and by the time Ray thought to mention the tattoo it would've been too late. Now that they have her it's a race to get her across the border before the light from sunrise draws attention to them. Will they make it without trouble? Will Mandy get her to give up her secrets? Are there really two different Volkovs?

“I say again: We’ve got Volkov,” Jason radios as he looks down and sees a smile creep across her face, acknowledging that she’s been found out. As he releases the radio he grabs her chin and gets a good look at her. Her ivory skin is lightly tanned, likely from spending a few months or years in and out of Africa. Her long, light brown hair reaches to the middle of her back and is clearly well cared for. The makeup on her face is smeared, but was beautifully applied to cover the small lines and wrinkles forming on her middle-aged face. Had she been any average woman in any normal context she might be considered good-looking, but the evil glint in her eyes and the memory of what she’s done to countless women and children makes her one of the ugliest people he’s ever had the displeasure of enduring the sight of. “If you enjoyed having us figure out who you are, you’re going to love what we do to you next.”

Ray looks at his team leader, dumbfounded as to why Jason thinks this is Volkov when the assumption has been Volkov is a man. “Are you sure, J?”

Jason looks up, his lips curled into a sneer. “The HUMINT says Volkov has a tattoo of a gun leaning against a cross on his left forearm, but there have been two distinctly different versions of what Volkov looks like reported.” Jason looks down at the woman as he twists her head to either side just to show his contempt for her want to fight back. “I’d be willing to bet there’s a second Volkov, a man, but he stays in Russia while she’s been relegated here. Father, brother, husband; he’s related to her and she’s a stand-in to confuse everyone.” He thinks back to what Martins had said about the safe. “After I referred to Volkov as a man Martins had a little happy reaction. I assumed it was because Martins was happy Volkov wasn’t here to get captured, too; but, apparently it was because he knew we wouldn’t think to look for a woman. It would also explain why every time assets tried to get eyes on Volkov in Africa he never showed up; she showed up instead.” Jason leans closer, his face just inches from hers. He’s close enough to see tiny flecks of green in her blue eyes and a slightly uneven tone to the tan on her skin. “What’s your first name?”

“Annika. Volkov. I have more power in this world than you will ever hope to have. You won’t make it out of this country alive if you don’t let me go right now.” Her English is impeccable, though she has a significant Russian accent. When Jason smiles and chuckles back in her face, she lunges forward trying to bite him as she twists her arm furiously to try to break free of his hold on her. He pulls back quick enough to avoid the assault then backhands her across the face. When she turns back there’s a small cut on her cheek and a drop of blood forming from it. “How many times have you hit your wife like that,” Annika asks as she smirks.

Jason instantly lifts his hand to strike her again, but before he can do so Ray hauls her backwards by her hair and out of Jason’s reach. Ray grabs the blouse Brock is still holding from giving Cerberus her scent and shoves part of it in her mouth then ties it behind her head, effectively silencing her before she can press Jason’s buttons any more. He then looks at his best friend, a warning effectively emblazoned across his face. Rather than fighting the warning, Jason takes a breath and keys his radio. “All Bravo: Collapse to the front gate. Let’s get out of here.” Sonny and Ray haul Annika to her feet by her arms and forcefully lead her down the stairs then out of the building, with Jason leading the way and Brock and Cerberus following behind. As they wait for the rest of the team to gather, Jason gets on the radio again. “Bravo 1 to Havoc: Preparing to exfil with Annika Volkov. How copy?” He stresses Annika’s name hard out of frustration, but laced with a tint of triumph from salvaging the mission.

Back at TOC Davis is looking at the photos of Annika’s face and tattoo with Mandy, both shocked at this turn of events. She shakes the distraction from her mind and turns back to the view from the Raven to ensure they have a clear path, pushing the drone over the road for a view of the team’s exfil route. “Good copy Bravo 1. Except for the townspeople you’re clear to exfil at this time. Raven will follow until you’re back at your wheels.”

Blackburn grabs the radio from Davis. “Bravo 1: Be advised: Partner forces have been notified of the situation in the compound by General Trask and the need to hurry there. They expect to have initial forces on the ground in the area by sun-up. Trask is already airborne to meet with his counterparts and help ensure a successful repatriation of all of the women and kids. He passes on his gratitude for your efforts as well as a reminder to get out of the country before you risk coming onto contact with any non-official forces.”

Clay’s standing just outside the gate speaking with the townspeople, letting them know that the ECOWAS partner forces will be there soon, but the team needs to get Volkov out of there immediately. He turns towards Jason as the team gathers a few feet inside the gate, reporting to Jason as much as he is to Blackburn and Davis. “Bravo 6 to Havoc: The townspeople say they’ll do their best to keep the women near the compound. They’ve offered to bring food and water for them while they wait. Notify partner forces of numerous friendlies on site.” As the rest of Bravo fall in around the HVT to escort her out of the compound, Clay thanks the townspeople then pulls rear security for the team. Just before they’re out of sight he looks back to see numerous women rushing towards the gate with jugs of water, food, and clothing as the men take positions by the gate to act as security. It’s a small comfort to see that the people who had their neighborhood invaded by awful predators have hated what was happening there and they’re instantly willing to offer care and kindness until the freed captives can be evacuated.

The short trip back to the SUVs is uneventful, with Volkov silenced and too overpowered with the seven men flanked around her to have any chance of escape. It’s not quite 0100 when their gear and equipment is loaded; Annika is securely cuffed, shackled, blindfolded, and wearing ear plugs and noise canceling headphones while shoved in the back of one of the vehicles; and the team is about to get settled inside.

Just before packing up the Raven and losing comms Jason radios, “Bravo 1 to Havoc: We pass Crowley. Next comms window in 4 hours. Bravo 1 out.”

“Have a safe drive, Bravo,” Davis says. “Havoc out.”

*****

The sun is bright, but not too hot as Cymbre rolls onto her belly on the soft, thick green grass. A light, cool breeze caresses everywhere the small bikini isn’t covering her skin. She pulls a soft towel under her cheek as she lightly shakes her body to release the tension in her muscles, reveling in the comfortable space. Just a few yards away the gentle ocean waves slowly lapping at the sand are reminding her when the sun has sufficiently warmed her it’s ready to welcome her for a brief swim. Far in the distance she can hear kids laughing as they play in the sand, splash in the water, and hit a ball back and forth. The smell of meat and veggies from a nearby grill reminds her of camping with a friend’s family when she was in high school. Digging her toes into the cool grass, Cym briefly wonders how much longer she can relax in this heaven on earth before she’s sunburned. Suddenly she feels a cold spot crawl up her legs and onto her back, like shadows have climbed over her. She rolls onto her side to look up, shading her face with her hand, but there’s no one standing over her. Instead, she realizes she’s all alone and the sun is quickly sizzling into the ocean. She stands in the deep, wet sand and dusts off her jacket and snow suit as she walks towards the water, wanting to cool off. Each step sends her sinking deeper into the quicksand, but as she gets thigh deep and starts to call for help there’s no one around. A cruel laugh in the distance causes her to startle and turn around to find a thin funnel cloud heading her way, ripping up the landscape around her. Just before it reaches her, the tide comes in and pulls her out into the ocean, the heavy weight of her soaked clothing pulling her down until she pops out the other side into a deep dark cave. Her naked skin is clawed up from the jagged rocks and blood is dripping down her in long thin lines until she looks like a red and white striped zebra. She feels around the sugar encrusted walls, trying to find her way out, only to feel webs as the angry spiders start to tickle along her skin then bite into her flesh. A thin slice of moonlight reaches down through a thin slit in the rock candy coating and pulls her up, tossing her onto a spit over a roaring fire. Struggling against the bonds, she bites the apple in her mouth and tastes a tequila worm instead. She gets her arms free only for her head and arms to fall into a pile of snow. Curling into a ball she soon finds herself spinning in circles in the middle of her childhood living room, laughing as she gets dizzy only to be told to shut up and go away because she’s blocking the tv. She quietly stalks over to a corner of the room, sitting as she takes the fork and mud pie she’s handed and slowly starts to devour it. Cym closes her eyes to the sight of the skeleton that dangles in front of her and wraps her arms around herself as she screams, telling everyone to just leave her alone. The earth starts to shake as she’s rolled back and forth, hands grabbing at her and ripping away chunks of her skin; it’s soon replaced with a soothing sunscreen that’s poured over her until she rolls onto her back and looks back up at the fluffy white clouds in the sky. It must be around noon as she’s getting hungry for lunch. She stands and jogs towards the water, diving into the surf as the warm waves envelop her and wash away forgotten memories and hidden scars.

Cymbre can hear her name being called, muffled and distorted by the water around her as she slowly swims for the surface. Rain falls, sobbing around her as she slowly floats towards the surface. A rip current starts to pull her in different directions as she tries to figure out where she is. The snorkel is stuck in her teeth as the bed below her creaks and groans from shifting weight. Voices around her are raised and argumentative. She can’t help but waken into the middle of the war zone happening around her. It takes her awhile before she’s aware enough to recognize the sound of her parent’s voices; her mother is throwing a temper tantrum crying fit as her father is standing at the foot of the bed yelling at the doctors for not having notified them about her condition then turning to her and cussing at her because her advanced directive says they’re not supposed to be in the room with her. Cymbre can hear the machines around her cussing back at them about her blood pressure and heart rate, only no one is paying attention to it; they’re too busy arguing between themselves. The intense feeling of helplessness and hopelessness that washes over her threatens to drown her mind, and she wishes it would. None of this makes any more sense than the dreams and nightmares that have been coursing through her and she can’t help but wonder if she’s really awake or still drifting in the throes of a coma-induced waking dream. As she briefly forces her eyes open she sees a black figure on a white background; she knows the symbol means something as it induces a brief respite from the suffocating chaos, yet the memory of where it’s from doesn’t surface. Her eyes drift back shut as she attempts to block out everything except the calmness it evokes. Soon the sounds around her crescendo then dissipate, leaving her floating haphazardly in their wake.

A soft voice calls her name as the dim overhead lights are briefly blocked. Cymbre opens her eyes, sadly looking up at the concerned face of a nurse. She tries to ask what’s happening, but the tube down her throat is preventing it.

“Shh. Don’t try to speak.” The nurse grabs a tissue and gently dabs at the tears Cym didn’t even feel on her cheeks. “You’re okay.” The nurse sets the tissue aside as she checks the monitors beside the bed, their monotonous beeps and ticks belie the heaviness of the air and the tense waves crashing over the patient. She looks back at Cymbre with pity in her eyes as she carefully pushes a clump of greasy, unwashed hair off Cymbre’s face. “I think you could use a bath pretty soon,” she says, feigned sympathy oozing from each word.

Cymbre slowly blinks then looks around the room, unsure where she is. She can’t remember anything recent, let alone why she’s in the hospital. There’s a brace around her neck, but why? She looks back at the nurse, trying to convey her confusion through her eyes and expression.

The nurse looks down over her with a forced smile. “You’re okay. Just relax. Fall back asleep if you can. The doctor will be in to check on you later, and he’ll decide then if he thinks you’re ready to have the breathing tube removed.” She turns and heads out of the room. Cym can briefly hear nondescript voices outside when the nurse opens the door and hurries into the hallway, closing the door quietly behind her.

Unsure what to do with herself Cym tries to look around the room, but there’s so little she can see from her position with the head of the bed only partially elevated and still unable to move her neck. Her body is so painful and weak that it feels like her body is being swallowed up by a black hole. Her eyes find their way back to the symbol on the whiteboard on the wall in front of her. She curiously studies it as best as she can in the dim light, but still can’t figure out what it is. The fatigue is wearing heavily on her and she slowly lets her eyes close again, drifting into a very shallow sleep just below the edge of consciousness.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jason's clearly on edge when he's hitting a woman they've just captured. That's not a good thing. At least the women in the compound will be looked after by the whole neighborhood until the ECOWAS forces can arrive to help; thankfully Clay could still think clearly enough to recognize they were trying to help, not interfere. Annika is now under their control and Mandy's going to have fun digging her claws into her. What will happen when Jason's fire, Mandy's will, and Annika's power clash together?
> 
> Cymbre, on the other hand, is psychologically spinning out in a different way than Jason. Between the sedatives, physiological damage, and psychological trauma she can't even tell if she's dreaming or awake anymore. That symbol though; the tiny nugget of peace it affords seems to be the thinnest tether to hold onto. Will it help her hold on?

“Bravo 1 to Havoc Base: Radio check. Over.” Jason looks out at the eastern sky past Trent in the driver’s seat. The sun is just starting to break past the horizon. They’d raced down the roads, trying to get out of Burkina Faso before sunrise to minimize the chances of being caught. They’re a few klicks from the border; almost home free. Any moment now they should be in comms range of the helo waiting to take them and their prisoner back to KAIPTC. He turns in his seat and looks back at Annika, who has barely moved in the four hours they’ve been driving. She’s going nowhere, yet from where he’s seated it looks like there’s very little tension in her limbs even though they’ve hit plenty of bumps and she’s laying in the cargo area. In the back of his mind he’s wondering if she’s got some kind of plan to escape or be rescued, but he’s trying not to think about it. “Havoc Base: Come in. This is Bravo 1. Do you read?” He settles forward again, trying to focus on anything except the discomfort they’re all feeling at being relatively quiet for several hours. Even though she’s tied up, blindfolded, and is wearing ear plugs they’re not going to take any chances where she might learn more about her captors in case she does manage to get free. The silence is allowing a little too much time to reflect and as much as Jason wants to be pissed about not being prepared to find Volkov on site, what he can’t push out of his mind is seeing her head slam sideways after he backhanded her. The similarities to what happened to Emma isn’t escaping him, even though he keeps reminding himself that Volkov has been trafficking and terrorizing innocent women and children so they had to do what they had to do; but did he have to do that? He needed to have the upper hand against her, but did he really need to hit her like that? When she then asked if he hit his wife the same way he would’ve knocked her head of her shoulders if Ray hadn’t pulled her out of striking distance. Why did he feel the need to defend his honor that he wouldn’t hit his late wife by hitting Volkov purely to silence her? The border is coming up fast. “Bravo 1 to Havoc: We pass Chuck. Do you copy?” A broken and crackled response asking to repeat his last welcomes them as they speed past the border into Ghana and slow down. “Havoc Base this is Bravo 1. We pass Chuck. I repeat: We pass Chuck. How copy?”

“Havoc now copies you Lima Charlie, Bravo 1. Welcome back to Ghana.” Blackburn’s voice is much clearer now, too. There’s a moment’s pause before he continues, “Helo is ready to bring you back to Accra. Mandy can’t wait to dig her talons in.”

“Havoc: Let her know she owes us a couple rounds for saving her ass,” Jason responds, frustration lacing his words taut.

Mandy gets on the radio and replies, “If she gives me what I want I’ll buy the team a couple kegs and throw a party.”

Jason gives the team in the vehicle a dirty look as they laugh and whoop. “We’ll be there soon, Havoc. Bravo 1 out.”

A few minutes later the SUVs are pulling back up to the small airstrip. Their sweat-soaked clothing had mostly dried in the air conditioning, but stepping out into the early morning’s eighty degree temps is a reminder they’re still a long ways away from the refreshing cool of late October weather in Virginia. They drag their captive out and shove her into the helo, strapping her down even though she’s given up fighting for her freedom. The team jumps in and gets comfortable for the flight to the cooler ocean breezes off the coast and hopefully a quick turn over to get them back home.

*****

Mandy is waiting for them as they land back at KAIPTC, along with MPs ready to take the prisoner to a room that’ll act as her temporary holding cell. As Jason approaches her, sweeping his hands back to show off their prize while a brusque expression crosses his face, Mandy claps her hands towards him in approval. “Bravo, Bravo Team,” she says with a laugh. “And that’s why Lisa and I made sure you were tasked with coming here while someone else went after the network in Haiti. No one else would’ve pulled this off.”

Jason stops just in front of Mandy and harshly grabs her left wrist, a mix of anger and disappointment written across his face as the smile quickly falls from hers. His voice is pressured and stressed as he accuses, “She blended herself in well, even to the point of stripping naked and cuffing herself with one of her victims, and we didn’t suspect anything. We should’ve been prepared for the possibility that Volkov was a woman. If it wasn’t for the neighborhood stepping up and tipping us off then Ray noticing her tattoo and pointing it out to me we never would’ve known she was there or who she was.” He points at the inside of Mandy’s arm to where Annika’s tattoo is. “At least, we wouldn’t have figured it out until it was too late to capture her.” He tosses her arm backwards as he turns away to follow the rest of the team off the tarmac.

Mandy grabs his shoulder, yanking him back to face her again. Defensiveness weaves through her words as she replies, “There was nothing in the intel that gave any indication that the two competing descriptions were for two different people. No one hinted that a woman could be involved: not the HUMINT which gave us Volkov’s tattoo and descriptors, not the SIGINT that confirmed Martins was on site without mentioning Volkov, not even the CYBINT that helped us find the location, showed any indication of a woman being anywhere near the top of this.” Her voice gets stronger as she continues, “You can’t blame me for not being able to give you information we do not have.” The punching punctuation to her final words is definitive; a reminder that lack of complete intel is to be expected. He grunts lightly and turns away, but she pulls him back again. “Jason, you know this op was put together fast as we had to move on it while we had the opportunity.” He stares at her, annoyed at the perceived excuse. “You cannot blame me when you know that there’s never any way for us to get every tiny piece of information before sending you out.”

Jason looks around them to ensure no one is within ear shot before turning back to her. “After what happened to Emma and after what we saw on that yacht we were poised to assume that all the women were victims. That clouded our judgment; my judgment.” He closes his eyes for a second as he takes a breath, trying to calm himself before he says something he’ll later regret. When he opens his eyes again his expression is a little softer. “It’s a damn miracle we figured her out in time.” Mandy stays silent this time, reminding herself that sometimes Jason has to beat his chest and spit fire before he can refocus on what’s really important. He takes another few moments to be silent before his posture loosens and his eyes drift down to her lips. He licks his lips, looks back into her eyes, and then takes a step back. His voice is steadier and calmer as he suggests, “You should get in there and figure out what you’re going to do with her before we head back to the States.” He turns and walks away before she can stop him again.

Thrown off by his glance at her lips, she stares blankly into the distance for a few seconds before quickening her pace to catch back up to him. “Jason,” Mandy yells. “Jason, wait.” As she gets alongside of him and matches his stride she continues. “We’re not heading back just yet.” He stops abruptly, causing her to sidestep to avoid running into him as he turns towards her, annoyed questioning in his eyes. “Lisa and I are going to interrogate her here first. No point in flying back to Virginia if we need to send you somewhere else right away.”

“Fine. Then get to it.” He starts walking again and tosses behind him, “I’m getting a shower and racking out.” Mandy watches him walk away from her, his posture slightly deflated, and silently wonders how long it’ll be before Jason can move past his anger towards himself for what happened to his little girl while he couldn’t be there to protect her.

Mandy sighs heavily then returns to the office where Lisa is continuing to delve over the intelligence. Now that they know the secrets of the myth of Volkov, they’re trying to find more of the truth. They’re now certain the two descriptions of Volkov are for two different people and the other must stay in or near Russia for cover. Unfortunately, there’s just not enough evidence in the intel to work off and going through the paperwork and hard drives seized in the compound will take months. They can’t send operatives into Russia to ask every citizen if they have a tattoo on their arm, so they’re going to have to rip more information from Annika for any chance to find another target; that is, if another target package is even warranted.

*****

After getting cleaned up and nabbing a few hours of sleep, the stillness of waiting for orders or information on what’s happening next starts to agitate the team. Jason is especially worked up; his sharking apex predator fire is churning in his belly and egging him into troubled waters. He would call Emma and Mikey, but it’s mid-day on a weekday and both should be busy in class. Finally, as he’s in the gym pounding weights to exhaustion, one of the KAIPTC instructors hosting the team offers a reprieve. There’s a bar and grill a few miles south that he and his buddies like to frequent on the weekends and they’d like to take Bravo out for dinner and drinks for the evening. Jason gathers the boys and they gratefully accept.

As they drive a few minutes south into the Osu township of Accra on the way to the bar, Sonny points out the signs for Christainsborg Castle. Soon the team is egging Jason on to ask their new friends for a tour of the castle. If Mandy and Lisa are going to keep them there for a few days while they try to break Annika, why shouldn’t Bravo get to have some fun? Inside the bar, Jason asks their new friends about it and is told that castle doesn’t give regular tours let alone walk-in tours, as it used to be the seat of governmental power and is now often used as a place for dignitaries to visit so tours must be requested in advance. However, Cape Coast Castle is only a three-hour drive down the coast and is open for visitors daily. They’re promised incredible views, a guided tour, and even a look at the ancient cannons and mortars that once defended the almost 500 year old fort turned castle. The slightly alcohol-fueled excitement is unanimous: in the morning they’re leaving to view an awesome African castle.

Early the next morning Jason checks in with Lisa and Mandy, to find they spent their evening buried in intelligence and on the phone with contacts around the globe trying to find more to go on before getting just a few hours of sleep. Annika has been left in a small room the whole time, stewing in her juices; but Mandy is finally about to head in and start her initial interrogation. Bravo has at least another day or two of waiting ahead, so Eric begrudgingly gives approval for the team to go with their Ghanaian hosts down the coast for the day. Anything that’ll keep the team occupied and not causing trouble for him will make the next few days of dealing with inquiries from the brass about Martins’ death and the slow progress of Annika’s interrogation a little easier to handle.

Bravo and their Ghanaian friends jump into a pair of vans and head down the coast, chatting and joking around together. By midday requests to get lunch before the castle arise, but Bravo is told they can find some snacks there and afterwards they’ll stop at a fantastic restaurant nearby. The outside of the building is magnificent as they pull up. They each pay a small fee and their counterparts offer a personal tour of the castle. After a short time viewing the museum and upstairs governor’s residence, they’re led down into the expansive dungeons. It’s only then that the American sailors begin to feel uncomfortable and unsure what they’ve gotten themselves into; they’re also glad they didn’t get lunch before the tour. The powerful stench of thousands of bodies across multiple generations that lived for three months in their own filth and vomit and bodily fluids inside those dungeons still lingers, even hundreds of years later. They listen to the stories of what those captives endured, men and women separated and unrelentingly abused, before being left to die in pitch black cells or sent through the door of no return to slave ships, never to see their homes and families again. Each man on Bravo team has seen terrible atrocities in war, but these revelations are unnerving and leave them speechless. This isn’t what they’d assumed awaited them inside castle walls, but it isn’t until they hear this and other similar forts and castles are known as the Slave Castles and were built by several European countries did it start to make sense. Only then do their counterparts admit they wanted to bring the sailors here to make them witness to the historical consequences of military and colonial conquests. It’s strongly hinted at that Bravo Team should be more careful about how they interact with cultures and communities they’re visiting.

What no one expected was the reminder that history isn’t all that historic. As frustrated as the team is by having been duped, the significance is important. The three hour drive back to Accra gives each team member an opportunity to compare and contrast the history of the Ghana Slave Castles with the barracks at the compound in Burkina Faso, with the women who were held aboard the yacht, and with the harsh reality of the overpopulated and highly lucrative for-profit prison system in America. This time, the silence in the vehicles isn’t to keep information away from an HVT; it’s so a group of guys who have seen countless tragedies and terrible circumstances around the world can self-reflect. They joined the military to make the world a better, safer place; are they truly doing all they can to make that happen?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While writing the previous chapters inside the Burkina Faso compound at the end of June, I randomly met a man who was born and raised in Accra, Ghana. He moved to the US in his 20s and now his son is in his 20s and has joined him to work together fixing cars. I told him a little about this story and asked him just a few questions to add to what I was already learning in my online research. The final question I asked was: If there was one place or thing he would want people to see or know about in Ghana, what would it be? He briefly told me about the Ghana Slave Castles. He never visited them while living there, but when he returned a few years ago for his mother's funeral his family took a tour. His description of the everlasting pungent smell in the cells of the dungeons was powerful. That night I started researching the multiple forts and castles in the area and knew I had to include a brief visit by Bravo team to honor the history as well as to contrast it with other elements of this story.
> 
> Nothing I write about the forts and castles could ever do reality justice. I strongly encourage you to take an hour or two to learn about places like Osu (aka Christiansborg) Castle, Cape Coast Castle ( https://youtu.be/BeyiXWEl9MQ ) and the multiple other locations with similar histories that were each built by different European countries using African slave labor. Only by learning about history can we ever hope to never repeat it. Accra is now a thriving city full of technology and practically every major multi-national corporation has a footprint there, but the historical significance of these castles is a stark reminder of how easy it is for one group of people to dehumanize another and lose their own humanity in the process. That's a lesson we clearly still need to learn in the current state of our world and across the US.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annika has been brought in intact without further incident, but Jason's clearly still being affected by all that's been going on. Now it's up to Mandy to break Annika. What will it take to get her to talk? What will she have to say? What's Lisa going to find in the intel from the compound? While Bravo is at Cape Coast Castle, Mandy is going to be exploring the inner psyche of a human trafficking madam.

Mandy enters the interrogation room where Annika has been kept awake overnight, not yet sure how she’s going to play this. Luckily, KAIPTC has rooms designed to train police how to perform interrogations, and for soldiers to practice subverting interrogators, so it took very little alteration to make it work for Mandy’s very real interrogation needs. Knowing almost nothing about Annika specifically, Mandy needs to figure out how to break through the tough exterior of a woman who has spent years doing terrible things to other women in the service of men and money. Annika’s demeanor is curiously jovial as Mandy sits across the table from her. “Annika Volkov.” She stares into the prisoner’s eyes for a few moments before sitting back in her chair to get comfortable for what she believes will be a long afternoon.

“I do not have the pleasure of knowing your name,” Annika responds, her Russian accent is thick though her English is perfect.

“You can call me agent, for now.” Mandy crosses her arms over her chest and leans back in her chair, taking in her opponent. “Tell me about how you came to be in Burkina Faso.”

Annika chuckles. “We both know that’s not what you really want to ask me.” She slowly slides her hands over the table, letting the chain between the handcuffs on her wrists clunk softly against the metal bar it’s attached to. She’s strong enough to put up a moderate fight against two tier one operators, so they weren’t taking any chances that she’d be able to get her hands on Mandy. Since she’d frequently chained women up inside the compound it seems like just desserts. Her lips slightly curl at the corners as she looks at Mandy with contempt. “You want to know how I can be a woman with such power. You want to know why I do what I do. You want to know who is controlling me.”

Seeing an opening to hit a low blow and throw her opponent off her game, Mandy says, “Actually, I’m more interested in where you got the work done on your breasts. They are far perkier than I would’ve thought based on how old your face looks without all that makeup.” Mandy hints a reminder that there’s video footage of her naked from when the team first encountered her then throws shade to slice into her ego.

Annika laughs sarcastically then her face flattens as she stares holes through Mandy. “I’m not sure why they came back looking for me as I had them fooled. I saw it in their eyes.” She bites her lip lightly as she moans softly and sits a little straighter to push her chest out provocatively. “They were excited by what they saw. Unlike you weak American housewives I could’ve given them pleasures they’ve never experienced before.”

“So is that how you got in the sex trade? You started out as a prostitute and when you got too old to turn a profit you became a madam, but now feel disheartened that you’re not as desirable as you once were?” Mandy has no problem trading barbs for barbs and she pretends to write down the assumed information.

A fire lights in Annika’s eyes for just a second before she tamps it back down. “My family has had money and power for generations. We’ve been entrusted with serving the needs of Mother Russia since Catherine the Great revitalized and reignited the power of our people. I am good at what I do and have reborn our family name into the power and prestige that befits our grand history, greater so than any generation since the Catherinian era.”

“If you were as good as you think you are, we wouldn’t have caught you,” Mandy says with a smile. “Though I also doubt you’re as powerful and special as you believe. If you were, you wouldn’t have been shoved in a compound in Africa training a few women in the art of prostitution while Martins ran the show.” She knows Martins answered to Annika, but for a woman who’s desperate enough for power that she’ll destroy vulnerable women and children it’s a fun knife to twist.

Annika sits back in the chair, her momentarily forgotten chains pulling back against her arms to admonish her movements. Her voice is stronger, yet slightly strained from anger as she replies, “You don’t know anything about our business. If you did, you’d know Martins is a joke and the women aren’t prostitutes.”

“That’s not what Martins is saying. He told me just an hour ago that whenever he got bored of violating your victims he’d put you on your knees and ride you hard as you screamed for more.” Mandy is searching to push every button that will illicit an uncontrolled reaction. “Apparently there were a few captives you didn’t break and train fast enough and your punishment was to take their place among his staff for a few days to prove you knew how they’re supposed to be trained.” She leans forward and lowers her voice, as if she’s speaking a secret. “Did you purposefully screw up so you could take a pounding from him every now and again? Is it your secret pleasure to have someone of his power and wealth using your body like that?” It’s all a lie, as far as Mandy knows, but she’s enjoying hacking away at this woman’s ego-fueled and controlled exterior like this.

As hard as Annika tries to hide her reaction, Mandy can see the blood drain from her face. Perhaps the accusation hit close enough to some version of her reality. It takes a few seconds before Annika regains her composure and anger starts to boil up to replace the color in her cheeks. “None of that happened. I am the best at what I do. The women I train sell for millions. Girls that are worthless and abandoned by their families are set up in lavish estates with expensive clothes and attend parties with men who run companies and countries. I make their lives better and give them meaning.”

Mandy silently glares at her, incredulity and contempt dripping from her features. Of course Annika has convinced herself that she’s a hero and helping these women, even though she probably knows deep down that she’s an absolutely horrible human being. “So if I gave you to powerful men to repeatedly rape you, beat you, and eventually murder you then you would be happy and grateful if they dressed you pretty and pretended you mattered first? Because if that’s the case, I’ll make some calls. If that’s what gets you off I’m sure I can make that happen for you.” Mandy stands up and turns towards the door.

“You would never do that. The United States is supposedly above torture. Plus your people are weak willed and pretend to be afraid of kink.” Annika pauses for just a moment and Mandy sees a crack in her painted exterior. “After all, you like to meddle in other countries’ affairs from your high horse while you have many of the same problems and failures as third world countries.” Annika’s brief yet obvious fear of becoming the victim is just visible beneath the surface of her feigned superiority complex. “Though you would probably end up selling me to one of my clients by mistake and I would be freed quickly.” Her attempt at laughter does nothing to hide the thread of worry streaking through her demeanor.

Mandy stops with her hand on the door handle. “There is another option, though.” She turns around, a light smile across her lips. “We want whoever is pulling your strings even more than we want you. If Martins doesn’t control you, as you claim, then who does?”

“No one controls me. My brother is my employee, not my boss.” Annika slips the information without even realizing it and Mandy fights to keep from showing any acknowledgement that she heard it. “He sells weapons. I sell women. Some buyers want both; some want to trade one for the other. Both have been currency around the world for thousands of years and empires have risen and fallen based on such currencies alone.”

“I wonder how many weapons we could buy if we had someone sell you back to Russia and your brother,” Mandy asks rhetorically. “As it is, you’ve lost all the women you’d been training so maybe your brother can use you until he replenishes his stock. Or we could put it out into the world how you cooperated with us so your brother will sell you to be rid of you or your countrymen will kill you for your efforts.”

Annika’s breath quickens until she suddenly jumps up, trying to lunge towards Mandy. “I am not for sale,” she screams. “My brother is worthless! Without me the entire business would’ve failed decades ago!” She yanks hard on the cuffs, straining against them until the bolts holding the table legs to the floor creak. “When my father wanted to give my brother all the power I killed him to take what I deserved for myself!” A self-satisfied smirk slides across her face as she slams her palms on the table and leans forward. “I will kill anyone who tries to stop me from taking everything I want from this world. I will never be made the victim again!”

“Oh. Okay. Good to know.” Mandy smiles as she steps outside, leaving Annika to realize what information she’s given up. Just before she closes the door Mandy says, “It doesn’t take much for the tables to turn.”

Mandy rushes down the hallway and bursts into the office where Lisa is surrounded by computer screens and paperwork, digging through some of the information from the compound. “Annika is working with her brother in Russia. She swears she controls him and I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s at least partially true, but she says he controls the weapons sales.” She looks at the paperwork strewn around. “Were you able to get into the files on the buyers and sellers?”

Lisa pauses what she’s reading and looks up, confusion etched across her face. “Yeah and most of the groups in the weapons trade are exactly who we’d suspect. It’s the trafficking side that doesn’t seem to make as much sense.” She points at her screen and Mandy walks around the desk to look at it. “Do you see it?”

Mandy scrolls the page up and down, curious about what she’s seeing. “It looks like they’re getting far more money per victim than seems reasonable.”

Lisa changes one of the screens over to show a report about a specific woman. “Here’s one of the files. They took her from Costa Rica, kept her in Haiti for only a week, brought her to Burkina Faso, and a few months later she was sold for more than double the regular price for a woman in her 30s. The photo shows she’s average looking. She speaks Spanish and some English, doesn’t seem to have a strong education or any significant family ties, and isn’t exactly a perfectly healthy specimen. There’s nothing here that makes her stand out on paper.” Looking at Mandy, she sits back in the chair and crosses her arms. “I’ve looked at the files of a dozen women and many read the same way. How did she get such high prices?”

Mandy considers what she learned from Annika in addition to everything they knew before coming to Africa. “What if it’s not only about the women? What if they’re just one part of a larger deal?”

Scrolling down through the file, Lisa looks in the notes from the transaction for some hint that anything else was included. “I don’t see anything that indicates weapons or some other deal was made in conjunction.”

“Annika claims she comes from a family who has had money and power for hundreds of years. She also said she killed her father when he tried to hand the family’s business, wealth, and power to her brother instead of her and that her brother answers to her not the other way around.” Mandy looks back at the screens. “Is there anything in the files about favors granted? She mentioned that many of the women are sold to heads of companies and countries and she referred to them as currency. So what if part of the deal when women are sold is they come with some additional promise or guarantee? As an oligarch she likely has access to heads of state or business contracts and the extra money is a payment for favors granted out of sight.”

Lisa grabs some of the printed papers from the desk and flips through them. She pulls one out and hands it to Mandy. “This group of buyers appears to be in code, but they might be transactions with countries or even favors owed. It’s hard to tell until we can get the analysts to dig deep into all of it.” She slowly starts to rub her face with her hands. “I’ve been staring at this for too long and I’m getting a headache from it. There’s just too much here from the better part of three decades to figure it all out in a day or two.” She leans back in the chair with her eyes closed as she stretches her arms up for a few seconds. When Lisa looks at Mandy again, her fatigue is evident. “Maybe if I get some dinner and a few hours of rest I can try again, but I think we’re better off taking her back to the States and throwing her in a hole for a month or two while analysts decipher these books. Then we can figure out what to do about her brother.”

Shuffling through some of the nearby paperwork, Mandy grumbles. “Yeah, I see what you mean. This is a treasure trove, but it’ll be awhile before we can truly appreciate its contents.” She puts the paperwork back down and leans her hip against the side of the desk. “You know, the guys were given a special tour of a castle by some of the locals so they’re going to be gone until tonight. Let’s leave her uncomfortable for another night and get a good meal and some rest. I think we earned it and she sure as hell earned some more time alone with her thoughts and fears.” As they exit and lock the office door Mandy notifies security to have Annika locked up for the night, preferably where she’ll be incredibly uncomfortable and continue to be disallowed sleep. Mandy wants another crack at her in the morning before getting on the flight back home. There’s more information she wants to know for certain before dragging her to the States and handing her over for a deeper interrogation and longer imprisonment; she needs a little help, though, to push Annika over the edge.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annika was definitely holding back during the first interrogation, but Mandy has a plan to get her to spill everything. They have one more day in Ghana, so it had better work.
> 
> During the last chapter I was stuck for 3 weeks. The characters fought me on everything I tried to do to make Annika talk. It nearly broke me trying to write this chapter, but "Jason" indicated it needed to be done and "he" was right. Even editing then rewriting part of it 2 days ago was hard, so steel yourself. Mandy and Jason are about to do whatever it takes to get Annika to tell the truth.
> 
> TW: Threats of violence

The next morning Mandy wakes Jason early. She wants his help with Annika. When the MPs bring her back into the interrogation room, Mandy already has it prepared. The large one-way mirror that would allow observers to watch has been covered. The camera has been covered. The temperature in the room is ten degrees colder than in the rest of the building. The chair Annika had been sitting in the day before has been removed and Mandy is sitting comfortably in her chair in the opposite corner as the door, rather than with her back to it like usual. Jason is standing near the door, glaring menacingly when it’s opened. As Annika is brought into the room, wearing a prisoner’s uniform of a bright orange t-shirt and shorts with her bare feet shackled together, Jason has the MPs unlock her cuffs while he holds her waist to keep her back towards the door. They drag her arms around to the other side and yank her body down to the table to put the handcuffs around the metal bar before locking her back up. Mandy smiles as they pull Annika forward so she’s awkwardly laying face down and barely able to keep her toes on the floor. When the MPs leave the room Jason stands behind her with a foot on the chain of the shackles, but not touching her, as he sighs heavily then goes silent. Mandy smiles at him, then looks at the fake smugness on Annika’s face. The silence in the room stretches for an uncomfortable few minutes as Mandy watches to see if Annika will telescope her emotions again. Eventually, Annika shifts her hips where the table is digging in and Mandy heavily releases her breath as she tilts her head slightly, a specific signal to Jason. He suddenly slams his hands on the table on either side of Annika’s ribs, making her jump then rests forward on his hands so he’s suspended just over her back.

“Annika, I thought a lot about what we were talking about yesterday,” Mandy says as she slowly crosses her arms across her chest. “I realized you may not have believed me when I said I had no problem gifting your body to a powerful man to give you exactly the kind of physical punishment you’re inclined to enjoy. My friend here is very powerful and happy to volunteer.” Of course this is all a ploy, and Jason is in on it, but Mandy needs more than words to pull a little more information out of Annika’s mind. She needs to rip out the core of her soul and expose her complete lack of power to make her give up her secrets; she’s way too comfortable believing that as Americans they won’t actually hurt her.

Jason is careful to not touch Annika, since the cameras in the room are covered, yet not in a way that actually blocks the video and audio signals. They’re toeing a line here, but he has no intention of crossing it. He leans forward and harshly grunts in her ear, “I told you that you’d love what we do to you next.” He stands upright and slowly buries one hand into her long hair that’s slightly fanned out next to her face, brushing it out of the way as he notices the red and purple bruise that’s formed around the broken skin on her cheek where he hit her two days ago. Curling his fingers into the strands, he winds a few chunks between them before pulling it into his fist and yanking her head back and to the side until the painful pressure on her neck is obvious in her eyes. “My friend here tells me that you enjoy being roughed up and rode hard. Apparently she believes if I give you what you want you’ll give her all the information she wants as a reward.” He shifts his weight to his foot that’s over the chain and uses the other to push her feet as far apart as the shackles will allow, so only the tips of her big toes can be used to keep the edge of the table from jamming into her hips and belly. “So tell me, where do you want it?” He’s fighting to keep himself calm and in character, but inside he’s starting to feel sick. Mandy knew he wouldn’t enjoy it and trusts him to not take it too far, while she cannot guarantee that the MPs or local forces won’t forget it’s only a farce. Yet she was only able to talk him into it because Jason knows if he’s convincing enough they’ll get what they need out of her to finally put an end to her entire network and likely save countless lives. Annika looks to the side at him and slowly pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, biting it seductively to test his resolve. Jason yanks her hair harder, twisting her head back until she winces in pain and her lip falls from between her teeth. “Where do you want to get pounded first,” he questions again with a quiet growl as he lightly knocks his booted foot and lower leg into hers repeatedly until her legs shift to rattle and pull against the shackles. He won’t let her forget for one moment he has full control over her. Tugging on her hair again, he bares his teeth as he sees her looking up and down his face.

Annika whimpers painfully. When he eases the pressure on her neck she chokes out, “You are Americans. You could not do such things.”

Mandy laughs and draws Annika’s attention to her. “Did you notice the cameras and window are covered?” She uncrosses her arms and points, even though Annika can’t move her head far enough to verify. “That means no one else will know what happened here. Which means even if you complain no one will believe you over us because, as you said, Americans don’t do such things.” She leans forward slightly, a sly smile easing across her lips. “Though, if you tell me what I want to know quickly, perhaps he’ll stop when you start bleeding unlike you and your cohorts.” Jason’s free hand pulls at the edge of her prisoner uniform t-shirt, lifting it partially up her back so the cool room air can waft across a few inches of her bare skin.

“What? What do you want to know?” Annika’s ego is losing out to the stress on her legs, belly, and arms as well as the threats being lodged. Clearly her mind isn’t as powerful as she thinks it is. Jason pulls her head back a little farther again then quickly releases, letting her head flop forward; she realizes he’s let go and stops just before her face slams into the table. “What do you want,” She asks again, her voice stressed.

Mandy quietly demands, “Tell me about the sales of the women. The prices are far too high, so what else is included in the deals?”

Annika shivers for a few seconds as she fights against her fear. Jason can see the little dots of raised flesh that are popping up across her arms and lower back so he pulls her shirt up higher until her entire back is exposed, showing proof that Mandy had requested she not be given a bra or underwear for under her prisoner uniform. Jason then leans down and gently blows across her back until she jumps and yelps from the tickling chill and the fear that he’s about to do much worse. Having been forced to stay awake for a second night, Annika mind isn’t clear enough to have any real control over her body and the giant cracks in her resolve are glaring. Jason carefully slips his fingers into the belt loops on either side of her shorts; Annika’s legs briefly shake as she feels her shorts move. Mandy can see the carefully constructed walls protecting her mind slowly crashing down. “The deals are for the women only. Nothing else.”

Jason leans forward and whispers in her ear, “You’re lying.” He then yanks her shorts up tight then pulls the back further so the seam drags along sensitive areas. Her body jerks upward and her legs fly out in response; the backs of her thighs slam into his legs as the chain from the shackles remains taut under his feet. She visibly bites down against her own yelp, but there’s no hiding her fear any longer. A few moments later he relaxes the pressure and tries again. “Don’t lie.”

Her voice is choppy and stressed as she replies, “My training is that good. The women are made to appear of quality stock, wearing beautiful clothing and acting perfectly subservient. They look the part in public and allow anything to be done to them in private.” She pauses as she shifts, trying to relieve the pressure on her chest, crotch, and joints.

Mandy stands, slowly bends to place her forearms on the table, and puts her head near Annika’s. “I know you’re lying. Those payments are far too high no matter what you forced your victims to do.” She reaches out and takes a small chunk of Annika’s long hair and twists it playfully through her fingers as she whispers, “Stop trying my patience and tell me what you were selling alongside your victims.” She turns and nods towards Jason who slowly pulls the waistband of Annika’s shorts back down just below the top of her hip bones and lets the elastic snap against her skin. “Unless, of course, you’d prefer my friend here do to you what your buyers did to your victims.” She leans a little closer and whispers, “His patience is even shorter than mine.” Mandy stands then quickly slams her hands on the table, making Annika jump and pull against her chains again.

“Contacts. Phone numbers,” Annika haltingly spits out. “I connect powerful people together to do business deals outside official channels.” She pauses as she wiggles her bottom, trying and failing to stop Jason as he begins to slowly slide the shorts back and forth against her skin to make it more difficult for her to tell if they’re being removed or not. “I take a cut of the deals then the women are often used to transfer illegal items across borders. If caught they receive the punishments or are given as payment to guards to look away. When they are not, they can become part of the deal or used however the buyer sees fit. Many of the women who succeed become prized possessions that are brought out to show off at special events. Everyone wins in these deals.” Annika closes her eyes tightly and to Mandy’s surprise she sees a tear drip loose and splash silently onto the table.

Mandy steals a look at Jason’s face. He’s closed off, his eyes glassy as he looks through the body and table in front of him. She knows he won’t be able to continue this much longer. Standing up, she tilts her head to get his attention and juts out her chin quickly to indicate he can back off. He releases the belt loops on the shorts and takes a step back, struggling to keep his breath even. “Where is your brother and how can I contact him? I’ve decided that I don’t believe you’re in charge and capable of making such deals, so I’m planning on negotiating with him for your release. If your family was once truly as connected and powerful as you claim, then I’m sure Mother Russia will pay a very hefty price to get you back.” Sure, it’s all a lie, but Mandy’s well-trained in making it sound entirely truthful.

Annika remains silent, likely mulling over her options now that the threat behind her has eased. Does she believe these people, or does she not? Does she think they’ll still follow through with their threats, or that they’ll really give her back to her brother? If her brother finds out she was captured, will he try to get her back or will he take the opportunity to enrich himself further instead? Flashes of memories as a little girl with a difficult life break into her mind, only to be suddenly drowned by the sound of pants unzipping behind her. “Stop. I will tell you.” She takes a halting breath and clears her throat. “Tula. Our family managed the arms factory there starting in 18th century. My brother works with the Tula Weapons Museum inside an old cathedral. It’s a cover that allows him to transport a variety of weapons freely in and out of the country, listed as historical models.”

Jason is staring into an empty corner of the room. He hadn’t actually unzipped his pants, only dragged his nail down the zipper. Barely paying attention, the mention of weapons snaps him back for a moment and he looks to Mandy while pointing at his left arm where Annika’s tattoo is located.

“So that explains the tattoos you and your brother both have,” Mandy states matter-of-factly. “Are you saying if I contact the museum and ask to speak with Volkov I’ll get him on the phone?” It seems too easy, too much like a trap, to Mandy.

Annika winces as she shifts her body again, feeling discomfort from the position she’s still in and desperately wanting to climb over the table so she can hide from the man behind her. When she starts to lift her legs to attempt it, Jason presses his foot back over the chain of the shackles and holds it into the floor, preventing her from moving. “Say you’d like to speak to Sacha about renting an AS Val rifle display model. It will signal that you would like to make a deal for a large number of weapons.”

Mandy stands. “Very well. I’ll give him a call right now.” She quickly walks around the table, softly places a hand on Jason’s forearm to pull him from his misery, and opens the door.

“Are you leaving me like this,” Annika howls as she wiggles and brushes her toes against the floor, trying in vain to get any leverage to give herself some relief. The steam of air from the door opening had brushed against her bare back and the skin-numbing movement of fabric across her rear has her believing that she’s fully exposed.

“For now,” Mandy says. “If I determine you’re telling the truth then I’ll give you a little break.” She leads Jason into the hallway before closing the door quietly just as Annika starts to yell about how they cannot commit such tortures against her. When Mandy looks at Jason he’s hunched over with his hands on his knees, eyes shut, as he tries to keep his breakfast from making a return trip. Mandy gently slides her hand along his shoulder to comfort him. “Sorry you had to take it that far. I’m sure you feel awful having to pretend you’d actually go through with it.”

Jason slowly stands tall and wipes his hands down his face. “It felt about as bad as it did when I realized I had hit her the same way that frat bastard hit Emma.” He finally looks into Mandy’s eyes, unable to hide the pain and shame that’s dancing in his mind. “I hope you never ask me to do anything like that ever again.” He clears his throat as he drops his eyes away from hers. “Especially so you never have to see me pretend to do something like that ever again.” Jason and Mandy have worked closely together for a long time and have a complicated history, considering they’ve crossed the line from co-workers and friends into something more intimate more than once. They know how to press the other’s buttons far too easily and have plenty of practice in having to forgive the other’s faults and move on. Yet having to fake being a monster akin to Annika and her network isn’t something he wants Mandy to see him as, should they ever approach that line between co-workers and intimate partners again.

Mandy briefly squeezes his shoulder then drops her hand away from him. Her voice is quiet as she says, “I know that wasn’t you; it was the character I needed you to play.” She swallows hard then takes a step back. “I need to call Langley and update them. They need to get people verifying this information immediately. There’s no way we’re heading into Russia to get Sacha Volkov, so we need a different plan.” She turns and takes two steps down the hall before pausing and turning back towards him once more. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah,” he responds, stressed. “I’ll be better when we can end this once and for all.” He watches her disappear around a corner and takes a breath before turning around to head the opposite way. He needs a shower to wash this vile filthy feeling from his mind and cover the sound of the vomit he might not be able to keep down. How any man can stand himself after willfully doing something even worse than what he just did is beyond Jason’s comprehension.

*****

After a team workout and time to explore the sparse entertainment options inside KAIPTC, Bravo is gathered in their bunk room, packing up to finally head home. Mandy has been on the phone with her bosses and analysts back in Langley, VA, giving them updated information and pushing for this mission to continue to have priority. Lisa has been busy making encrypted digital copies of all the intelligence from Burkina Faso so it’s ready to be disseminated to multiple teams of analysts the moment they’re back in the States. It’s going to take weeks to break the codes, determine what intel is actionable, and figure out what agencies need which information for what purposes. Blackburn has been communicating up the chain about the mission’s progress as well as coordinating their return trip. Everyone knows they’ve struck a major blow against the worldwide human trafficking and weapons trades, yet they also know there’s more to do to end the Volkov network once and for all.

Blackburn enters the bunk room with a smile on his face. “Listen up.” He pauses until he has seven sets of Bravo eyes on him. “I just heard from General Trask. Thanks to your efforts, eighty-three women and four pre-teen children have been rescued alive, interviewed, and are in the process of being returned to their families and home countries. The neighbors were interviewed; they’d been trying to get their local government to expel Martins and Volkov for years, but their pleas had fallen on deaf ears because of the economic and military connections with Russia. Several men, husbands and fathers, had died or been severely wounded while attempting to stop what was happening there. While no one expects the ties between Russia and Burkina Faso to be cut, those townspeople and the world will be safer. The ECOWAS forces have said they will continue to pursue all those who aided and abetted what was happening in that compound, as well as any similar groups they can find, especially since Russia is denying any knowledge or ties to them. General Trask has assured me that any information Davis and her team sends him will be acted upon to continue that mission.” He looks around at the team members’ faces. “By allowing them to take the lead on the rescue and subsequent investigations into what was happening there, we don’t have to expend extra resources and it helps prove the US AFRICOM mission of supporting our partners rather than policing the world alone is working. So congratulations on a job well done. We’re wheels up at 2300 hours.” As the team’s spirits rise at the news, Eric quickly heads out to go pack his belongings and get ready for the flight home, himself.

Jason looks around at his team. “Brothers, that op could’ve easily gone to hell. Blackburn is right: even though we weren’t able to take those women out of the compound ourselves, we made it possible for them all to make it back home alive. Mandy and Davis are determining if one more target is feasible, but we’re dragging Annika Volkov back with us to rot in a hole where she can never hurt anyone ever again.” He pauses and looks towards Clay. His voice is softer as he adds, “No one else will ever have to suffer at the hands of that trafficking ring.”

Clay sets down his duffle and approaches Jason. His voice is hushed as she asks, “Have you heard anything about Cymbre?”

Jason shakes his head no. “Maybe Mandy has. Check with her on the plane.” He turns from Clay and addresses the room once more. “Half hour ‘til wheels up. Let’s haul ass because I’ve got some kids back home to check in on.”


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jason ripped a part of his soul out, but Annika is done for. Their mission in Ghana is complete and they can finally head back home. It's an eleven hour flight; what awaits them?

Clay finishes a celebratory beer on the plane with the team before he approaches Mandy. She’s sitting in a jump seat with her eyes closed so he approaches slowly and taps her knee. “Mandy?” She looks up at him and smiles. “Have you heard anything about Cymbre?”

Mandy taps the seat next to her, indicating for him to sit down so she doesn’t have to speak up over the sound of the plane. “After we got the information I needed I’ve been too busy to keep tabs on her.” His face falls slightly, but she continues. “I did get a message from her doctor notifying me that she survived the surgery to remove the infection causing her sepsis, as well as emergency neurosurgery on her neck, in case I needed to ask her more questions.”

“That’s good.” Clay’s body relaxes slightly as a little weight falls from his shoulders.

Mandy stops him before he can stand back up. “Though, a complication arose when her parents showed up. Since her advanced directive said they were not to be near her so they cannot abuse her, the staff notified me and asked if the agency wanted guards placed on her door. They know nothing about the people who hurt her or why the CIA had a continued interest in her, so they wanted to know if we had jurisdiction in her case.” Tension crosses his face again. “I passed the message on to my boss, but he said since we got what we needed from her there was little more we could do to help. It’s up to the hospital and local police, now.”

Clay struggles to keep his voice low through his frustration. “So because we got what we needed we’re throwing her away?”

“I’m sorry, Clay. We captured and killed the kidnappers. We’ve killed their boss and captured the woman at the top then pulled information from her. It’s highly unlikely anyone we have jurisdiction over has any further concern towards her.” She lightly taps his arm in a comforting gesture. “It’s not our job to protect her from her own family.”

Clay glances around the plane, looking for Jason, before turning back to Mandy once more. “Little comfort for her, I’m sure.” Standing, he swallows his frustration and approaches his team leader, his father figure. “Hey Jace, where’s the sat phone?” He follows Jason a few feet away to where it was last seen, but just before he can grab it Jason pulls it out of his reach.

“What do you need it for?” A sly smile is on Jason’s lips. “Going to invite Sexy Becks to meet you at your place?”

“Actually, no.” Clay gives Jason a look that says he’s not playing around. “Mandy said Cymbre survived surgery, but her parents showed up causing trouble and no one is going to help her. So I’m going to call Rebecca and see if she knows anyone who can get involved.” Jason brings the phone closer, but doesn’t let go when Clay grabs it. Clay’s expression turns earnest. “We should do something. She took out one of those guys on her own and risked life and limb to save everyone else.” He pauses as Jason’s face turns sour. “We wouldn’t have even known to go after Martins and Volkov if it wasn’t for her.”

“We have to let it go, Spenser. We have to forget about her and move on.” Having initially felt haunted by Cymbre because she reminded him of Emma, Jason had been unable to forget about her, too. After what he just had to do to Annika, and knowing Sacha is a relatively minor threat who will eventually get his dues, Jason is determined to shove every memory from these past few weeks in a little box to be buried in his gut. The image of Cymbre’s broken body will be locked away with countless other terrible images of victims, dead and alive, from countless ops over his long storied career. “We can’t fix the world, brother.”

Clay huffs. “No, but she at least deserves a better chance, like the one I got when I joined this team, this family.” He yanks the sat phone from Jason’s hand. “Doesn’t she feel like a sister in some way? Hasn’t she earned our respect? Shouldn’t we at least try to help?”

Jason stays silent as he lifts his beer bottle and takes a pull, trying to read Clay’s intentions before he says anything else. “Careful how much you say to Rebecca about why you keep getting involved.” He takes a half step back and pauses. “Not only is the mission still classified, Rebecca might take it the wrong way.” Turning on his heel, he finishes the rest of his beer and dumps the bottle as he heads for his hammock. No point in trying to talk the kid out of it if he’s this determined. Clay doesn’t have much time left before he leaves the team for OCS, so whatever he needs to do to wrap up this mission in his mind Jason won’t stop him.

Clay quickly dials the phone and finds a quiet corner in the forward section of the cargo hold as he asks Rebecca if she knows anyone who might be able to help keep Cymbre safe. It’s after hours in D.C., but she says she’ll make a call on Cymbre’s behalf.

*****

Waking when it’s dark outside is often disconcerting, but for someone who has lost all semblance of time and space it’s extraordinarily disorienting. Cymbre slowly opens her eyes to find little besides thin streaks of light slicing through the darkness to leave her both curious and cowardly. Gently pulling on the blankets, she fails at the attempt to cover her face with them to save herself from the expected monsters that have clawed at her too many times when she’s most vulnerable. Distant dings and minute mumbles creep in along the shafts of light and burst profuse pinpricks of fear along her skin. As she takes stock of the harsh surroundings and darkened corners, she takes a deep breath and for a moment questions why it feels so odd. Her hand approaches her mouth and as she lightly drags her fingers along her lips a flash of memory alights before her; she hazily remembers blue tubes controlling her breathing. She racks her brain trying to remember when the memory is from, but her mind is too jumbled. The last thing she distinctly remembers is flying from Minnesota to D.C.; is she still there? Her hand cautiously touches the stiff brace around her neck, tracing the edges and lines as if it might map the broken shards of memory that seem too sharp to grasp. She takes stock of what she can feel in her body: burning pain where her ribs meet her spine, exploding pain where her ribs meet her sternum, a partially numb left leg from a swollen lower back aggravating her tethered cord, and SI joints that are trying to shift into a new zip code. Her knees must have visited the arctic as they feel nearly frozen and her feet might be trapped in ice; or the blood flow into her legs is compromised. Itching heat is creeping through her fingers and wrists from ignored osteoarthritis lit up by bones subluxated from lack of movement. Ghostly lines from tiny scratches and gouges dot her skin from top to bottom, hinting that someone must have tried to clean up her skin with too much perfumed soap and too little gentle caution. Attempts to shift her body causes her abdomen to clench, shooting acidic knives through every organ and muscle, and she feels what she prays is a catheter pulling against the most intimate of places that seems to have been grated and crisped. Each tiny movement cascades unbearable pain through her body until her tears and staccato breath no longer seem adequate; a wrenching painful scream tries to bubble up, only to be caught unawares by a throat that lacks sound. Shredded gasps are all she has to live by as she starts to wonder: what remains of her?

It takes a few seconds before Cymbre realizes there’s suddenly light bursting from the door in front of her. She braces herself, fear momentarily overwhelming the pain in her brain. One dark figure then another enters the room, but she can’t see their faces. As her breath catches in her throat and whimpers are all that can escape her lips, the figures approach either side of her bed just as the door softly shuts out whatever lies beyond this darkness. Her only defense is to close her eyes. Of course, that does nothing to stop what’s coming. A hand clamps down hard on Cymbre’s mouth, squeezing her jaw until the bone feels likely to break.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” A seething voice grinds near to her ear. “Why do you insist on making our lives so difficult? Can’t you ever just stop and think about how your actions affect us?” It takes a moment for the voice to register, but Cymbre’s eyes flash open as she realizes this is her mother, Deena, standing over her.

“Does it make you feel good to keep blaming us for what you’ve done to yourself?” Cym’s eyes dart to her other side as her father, Rodrick, harshly clomps his hands down on the bed next to her. Her hands grasp at the bedding to pull herself down away from the threats, but there’s no strength in her movements and she’s glued to the spot.

“You stupid little bitch,” Deena spits over her, “you cause numerous problems until you get yourself on the news, which makes everyone start asking us about you. The looks and comments we’ve been getting are just terrible.” In her anger she starts to shake Cymbre’s head back and forth and up and down rapidly, causing the neck brace to shift with the sharp movements, forcing Cymbre to close her eyes as she gets dizzy. Deena’s other hand grips the railing of the bed until her knuckles turn bright white from the tension. A hand slowly rises under the sheets, flailing as Cym tries to grasp at the large arm that’s waging war against her.

Rodrick crosses his arms over his chest and bends down, utter contempt oozing from him. “Why do you always insist on trying to make us look like bad parents? Why can’t you be more like your sister was? She at least could figure out how to get a husband before she died.” He pauses and looks at his wife, the frown on his face easing for a moment. “After all, it was the stress you put us through by being a piece of human garbage that caused both her and your mother to get cancer, then you didn’t bother to show up to care for them during treatment.”

Cymbre starts to shake uncontrollably as overpowering fear and adrenaline course through her body. Her legs and arms spasm then go numb and soon she can’t hear or see anything as she dissociates from the moment. Her mother’s hand slips up Cymbre’s jaw with each shake until the large fingers block her nose, too, as Deena’s hand clenches harder in a vain attempt to demand Cymbre submit to her control just like when she was a child. The machine monitoring heart rate and blood pressure starts to chime, but they ignore it. An echoing crack resounds through Cymbre’s head and a split second later she goes limp. Instantly she struggles to breathe and her heart fails to coordinate its pumps. Cymbre’s eyes briefly pop open as tears explode from them, but then they drift closed again slowly, dragging the calm of nothingness over her one last time.

The door bursts open and a nurse comes running in, followed by an orderly. They click on the light and are shocked at finding two people standing over their patient. “What are you doing here? No one is supposed to be in here! Get out!” Deena and Rodrick each take a step back, their seething quickly shifting to feigned concern.

“You can’t take me away from my daughter! She needs me! You’re not doing shit to care for her!” Deena starts to scream and cry, leaning into her words as she sobs and throws a fit.

Rodrick rushes over and puts his arms around his wife, whispering comforting words to her. “You’re upsetting my wife. All she’s trying to do is care for our daughter! Now get the doctor in here because we’re moving her out of this hospital.” He hugs Deena and rubs her back as she continues to wail and stomp her feet. “Get over here and take care of my wife, first!”

The nurse ignores them and checks on Cymbre. The machines scream that she’s stopped breathing and her blood pressure is bottoming out. Reaching for the wall behind the bed the nurse hits the button that calls a code and soon a half dozen staff come rushing into the room. The orderly pushes Deena and Rodrick back into a corner of the room and stands between them and Cymbre. The commotion around the bed grows along with the tone of the voices yelling information back and forth. Soon they’re intubating her again then grabbing a defibrillator, using it on a low setting to continually shock her heart to attempt to pace it back into a proper rhythm. It’s only just barely enough to keep her body alive. It’s all they can do right now.

The doctor approaches the couple in the corner, frustration written all over his face. “I’m Dr. Simons. Who are you and how did you get in here? This patient isn’t cleared for visitors and it’s long past visiting hours.”

Rodrick takes a step forward from his wife. “We’re not visitors; we’re her family. We demand to know why no one notified us that she was in here so we could oversee her care.”

“You’re hurting my daughter and it’s killing me!” Deena continues her wailing and crying. “We should’ve been here the whole time!”

Dr. Simons looks back at the charge nurse. She walks over and whispers that her parents weren’t allowed in because of an advanced directive stating her parents were abusive. He turns and nods his understanding. “Call security.” He then turns back to Cymbre’s parents and puts himself between them and the patient. “The notes on her record say that she specifically states you are not to be near her because of a risk of abuse. That’s why you weren’t notified about her situation. Also, that’s why you wouldn’t have been allowed in this room.” He pauses as security comes running through the door. “That’s also why you will now be escorted out of here and held until police arrive. Considering Cymbre has taken a severe turn for the worse from an unknown cause while you were alone with her you will be required to answer some questions.” He nods at the security guards who struggle to grab the couple and drag them out as the couple fights and screams that they’ve done nothing wrong and everyone knows Cymbre is a liar. Once they’re finally gone the doctor approaches the nurse who first entered and found them in the room alone with Cymbre. “Were you monitoring her? Do you know what happened?”

The nurse is distraught. “I was dealing with another patient and they must have snuck in. Her monitors went off and when I came in they were standing over her in the dark.”

“Whatever they did, they might have just killed her.” He shakes his head. “Her case is too complex for me to handle. We need the on-call neurologist or neurosurgeon to get in here and evaluate her immediately.”

There’s a sharp knock on the open door and everyone in the room turns to look. “I’m Ms. Phillips, a manager with patient care services. We just got a call from a Minnesota senator’s office asking about this patient.” She stops and looks at the bed where Cymbre is lying near motionless except for the rhythmic contractions as the pacing pads thump away trying to keep her heart going. “Looks like I’m not going to be giving her good news.”


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clay and Rebecca tried, but it seems they were too late. This news is going to be hard for some to take.

Jason is awoken in his hammock with a sharp smack on the shoulder by Blackburn. He takes a quick breath and pops open his eyes. “Yeah, I’m up.” When he sees who it is, he quickly grows alert. “Is something wrong?”

Eric takes a step back to allow Jason to get upright. “I just got notice from Washington: the Senate Ethics Committee wants first-hand accounts of what happened on the yacht and about the mission in Burkina Faso. The plane is being diverted so Mandy, you, and I can answer some questions they have, immediately.”

“Why don’t they just read the AARs and the intel that Mandy and Davis already gave them? That should tell them what they need to know.” Jason has zero interest in standing in front of a panel of blowhards trying to use him and his team to further their own agendas. “They don’t need to see our faces to know how big of a problem Miller is for the country.”

Eric sighs. “I’ve been told it will be an informal meeting with only the three most senior committee members. They want to clarify a few points and see if any information has changed from what we learned in the last few days. Then they’ll take that information to the rest of the committee.” When Jason’s frustration grows, he continues. “Look, I know this isn’t your idea of a good time. Mandy and I will do our best to deal with it to keep you out of that room, but they want you available because you were leading the boots on ground. They’re also calling in the leader of the team that went to Haiti trying to shut down the piece of Martins’ and Volkov’s network there.”

“I don’t have my dress blues with me, so it had better be informal.” Jason drags his hand down his overgrown beard knowing he has no intent to shave and look pretty for them, either.

“Mandy and I will meet with them while you and the team hang around Washington for the day. I have every intention of getting you boys back to Virginia Beach before the sun sets.” Blackburn pauses to look at his watch. “We’ll be landing in an hour, about 0700. Take the guys out to breakfast, take them to the gym for a workout, find something to keep yourselves out of trouble, and I’ll let you know if we need you at the Capitol or when we expect to be wheels up for home.”

Jason has no choice except to accept. “Fine. We’ll waste some sunlight waiting around for the Senate to decide we’re free to go about our lives and get back to our families.” He lies back in the hammock, crossing his arms behind his head as he looks up at his CO. “Just don’t expect any of us to do it without some complaining.”

“I’ll leave it up to you to deal with the complaining, Master Chief. I’ll be too busy dealing with everything else.” Eric gives a little push of his foot against the side of Jason’s hammock before he heads back over by Mandy to discuss how to keep Jason’s sulking attitude away from the senate.

After a few minutes of relaxing and trying to get his head straight, Jason gets up and wakes the team to let them know they’ll be landing in Washington soon. Of course none of them like the idea, except for Clay who’s trying his best to keep a lid on his excitement. He might have the chance to spend a little time with Rebecca; but, there’s also one more thing he wants to do: check in on Cymbre, himself.

*****

November is knocking in the atmosphere with chilly winds threatening to bring the first storm of winter early as the C17 lands at Joint Base Andrews. Halloween is tomorrow and the full moon and extra hour of night that comes with a clock change feels like a looming omen of doom. The sun is still low in the east, but with clear skies the bright sunlight accentuates the bitter bite in the morning air and reminds Bravo they’re back home much farther away from the equator. Mandy and Blackburn are quickly rushed into a car to head for the meeting at the Capitol. MPs are waiting to escort Annika to a holding cell where Langley is primed and prepared to get their hands on her, and Lisa goes along to oversee the prisoner transfer and to hand over copies of the intel they had gathered. Cerberus is left at the plane with the crew to watch over him until Brock and Bravo return. Jason gathers up the team and heads to the dining hall for some breakfast then over to the fitness center for a workout, all while anxiously hoping his phone won’t ring.

Clay’s just about to start a lifting set when his phone rings. He steps out of the room to take it, only to return a few minutes later. “Jace,” he says, pulling him aside. The look on his face screams that it’s not good news. “Rebecca just heard back from the Minnesota Senator’s office she contacted about Cymbre.” He pauses a moment, as if he’s trying to come to terms with the news. Suddenly straightening his spine he tells Jason, “Her parents snuck into her room last night. By the time staff realized something was wrong and went inside, it was too late to stop them.” Clay pauses and looks down at his phone, as if he wishes it had been a prank phone call rather than the truth. When he looks up again his gaze is unfocused. “The doctors had completed the neurosurgery on her neck, which must have weakened the vertebrae and one shattered.” He pauses as his voice cracks, struggling to keep his composure. “They’ve tried what they could, but there’s no coming back from it.”

Jason turns and looks out at the team for a minute, knowing that this is an awful outcome. “We did our job, Clay, and the rest is out of our hands,” he says quietly, reminding himself in the process.

Clay returns his reddening eyes to Jason’s. “She deserved better. She deserved a chance at the better life she was fighting so hard for, but instead it was cut short because no one protected her.” Anger is starting to well up inside Clay. He closes his eyes to try to tamp it down, but instead he’s greeted by the image of Cymbre’s pale face covered with blood drops and her steel blue-grey eyes drowned with tears as she looked up at him. When he opens his eyes again he turns and looks out a nearby window at the bright blue sky, not wanting his brothers to see his resolve weakening. Without turning back he says, “I feel like the least I can do, since we’re already so close, is to stop by the hospital and see what will become of our sister.”

Jason catches Ray’s attention and motions for him to come over. He’s got to get his number 2 involved in this, as the last thing he wants is to continue to have to think about how much Cymbre reminded him of his own daughter, let alone what he just had to do in Ghana. Since Ray has been with Naima he’s taken on her knack for saying what needs to be said in the moment. “Clay just got news about Cymbre. She’s not going to make it.” He clears his throat, hesitating for a moment as he and Ray are the only two who have kids and thus are who least want to consider the ramifications of his next sentence. “Her parents showed up and soon after she was dying.” He turns back to Clay. “Look, Spenser, I get it. Sometimes it’s hard to let go of an op and move on, but it’s what we have to do.”

Ray steps up next to Clay and puts a hand on his teammate’s arm, trying to get him to turn and really hear his words. “You did everything you could for her, but once we rescue someone the rest of the outcome is no longer on our shoulders.” He knows this is more about Clay feeling inadequate or lacking control of the situation than about whether Cymbre lived or died, even if Clay hasn’t realized that truth yet.

Clay turns towards Ray, his eyes now bright red as he fights to keep his anger and sadness in check. “There had to be something more we could’ve done,” he says softly. Pausing, he slowly clenches and releases his hands at his sides. “Not that long ago I was lying in a hospital bed with little hope of returning to Bravo, but at least I knew I would live. Cymbre didn’t even have that guarantee.” He pauses again, clenching his jaw until the muscles in his face start to ripple in waves. Through clenched teeth he continues, “Then I couldn’t save Swanny. Then I couldn’t save the Ambassador. Then I took my eyes off of Vic and his mistake cost Dr. Craig his life. We’ve lost too many of the good ones because I couldn’t do enough.” He shoves Ray back, turns away from his team members, and stalks off towards the door.

Ray rushes up and grabs Clay’s arm before he can make it outside. “Stop.” He yanks his youngest teammate to a stop and steps in front of him. “You can’t control the chaos, Spenser. You were there for Swanny when no one else was. He made the choice he made and you couldn’t have stopped him. You did everything you could for the Ambassador. The mortars killed her, not you. It wasn’t on you to keep Vic in line. I should’ve kept a closer eye on the kid. It wasn’t your job to stay at Cymbre’s side and keep her alive. You, Trent, and Jason kept her alive long enough to get her into the doctors’ hands and then your efforts got her to give up the information we needed to dismantle a global trafficking and weapons network.” Clay refuses to look at Ray’s face. “Look at me, Clay.” Ray pauses until Clay looks him in the eye. “We are only human and we cannot save everyone, no matter how hard we try. We aren’t to blame for what happened to any of them, especially not Cymbre.”

Jason slowly walks up from behind, with the rest of the team having stopped their workouts to listen closely to the disruptive conversation. “Clay, she had been ready to give up on life for years before she was kidnapped. The abuse and violence she suffered was beyond what many of us could understand, on top of that huge list of medical problems, and that’s long before she ended up on the yacht. She just had no fight left in her and nothing we could ever do would change that.”

“You didn’t see her eyes,” Clay accuses sharply. He turns and looks Jason square in the eyes. “I did. I saw her fear of dying. I watched her battling for one more breath through the pain. I recognized her desperate wish for hope and for someone to save her.” Clay pushes Ray’s hand away from his arm. “There was no way she could’ve survived what happened on that yacht without purposefully fighting with every ounce of strength she had to live.”

Ray sighs lightly. “A will can be strong, but she was so fragile, brother. Even if she survived the injuries, she might have died from her conditions at any time. No one could’ve fixed everything for her, especially not the body she was unfortunately born into.”

“So let’s at least see what’s going to become of her.” Clay looks behind Jason and Ray to the rest of the team. He raises his voice, hoping at least one of them will back his play. “It’s a half hour drive. Let’s just go there and say something; do something, now.” He huffs loudly. “Her family is garbage. She took every punishment the kidnappers doled out, coming close to death several times, to save every other victim on that yacht – even that narcissistic bitch Amber.” When he receives no response, he grunts angrily as he shakes his head at them. “Rebecca is on her way to pick me up. Come with me or don’t. Cymbre earned enough of my respect for me to call her my sister. That means I want to ensure that she receives some recognition that she’ll never get from her own flesh and blood.” He storms over to his bag to grab his wallet and military ID. “I promised I’d tell her when we took out the traffickers and I’m going to keep that promise.” He storms out of the gym and heads a few blocks north to the main gate. When Rebecca’s SUV pulls up a short time later he’s surprised to find the whole team jogging up the road behind him.

Sonny steps up and stops Clay before he can open the vehicle door. “You’re not doing this alone, brother. Let’s go say goodbye to our sister.”

Jason, Ray, and Sonny slide into the back as Clay gets in the front passenger seat. Just before they pull away Trent, Brock, and Full Metal get into a ride share they had requested once Clay made it clear he was going with or without them. They head for Georgetown University Hospital, with the team ready to support their brother the best way they can: by just being there.


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With Bravo in D.C. for the day, how could Clay not insist on seeing Cymbre upon hearing the update? His brothers couldn't let him do it alone, knowing what he's about to experience will be rough. What does goodbye look like after such a devastating blow?
> 
> I've done some more rewrites and expanded on the last two chapters to the point I needed to split what was chapter 32 into two. The end is nigh, dear readers.

The silence is deafening during the restless ride through mid-day D.C. traffic. Rebecca repeatedly glances at Clay then at the other team members in the rear view mirror, unnerved by the tension in the vehicle. Clay just stares straight ahead, his body stressing and straining as if the SUV is moving by his sheer will alone. She reaches out and places a hand on his knee, but it’s as if he doesn’t even care that she’s there. Eventually she gives up and with the knowing glances coming from the backseat she pushes a little harder on the gas pedal to get them to the hospital as quickly as possible.

As Rebecca pulls up to the hospital there’s a commotion happening in front of the main doors. Security is holding back a middle-aged couple who’s trying to get inside the locked doors. The team immediately shifts into a support mindset and exits the vehicle cautiously; Jason moves towards one of the security guards while the rest of the team stays back. Rebecca takes off to find somewhere to park just as Trent, Brock, and Full Metal are dropped off and rush up to join their teammates.

“Excuse me, sir, but we’re currently under lockdown. Please step back and keep your distance until we have the situation under control.” The head security guard presses against Jason’s chest roughly, trying to exert control over him.

“I can see that. My team and I are US Military.” Jason points back at the guys as he stands firm against the guard’s annoying attempts to shove him away. “Perhaps we can be of some assistance before we visit who we came to see.”

The guard stops pushing against Jason and looks him and the rest of the team over. Jason pulls out his military ID and shows it to him. “Well, then. Maybe you can help,” the guard says as he tries to ignore that he was never going to be strong enough to do any real good against seven abundantly powerful military men. He points to the couple who’s still fighting against several other guards. “These two are banned from the hospital due to an incident last night. The police arrested them, but apparently had to let them go because they need time for further investigation. The guy claims he’s a soldier and called in some favors to get permission for him and his wife to see their daughter.” He looks Jason in the eye as he leans closer and lowers his voice. “Between us, it sounds like he and his wife permanently paralyzed or killed their daughter and we don’t care who he demands favors from, they’re not getting close to her again.”

Jason’s face falls and he looks back at the team. If Clay realizes this is likely Cymbre’s parents who knows how badly this could go. “Ray. Sonny. Metal.” He waves them closer as he takes a step back from the guard. As they approach he lowers his voice as he addresses Ray and Sonny. “I think these are Cymbre’s parents. Keep on Clay. The kid’s not going to take it well when he figures it out. Metal: Stay with me.” Ray and Sonny acknowledge the order and return to stand next to Clay as they watch what Jason is about to do. Looking back at the guard Jason says, “If you’re okay with it, I’ll try to get the guy to back down.” The guard nods and invites him to give it a shot.

The woman is screaming and throwing her large body around as she tries to force her way past the two guards trying to hold her back. The man is using a loud, strong voice to demand he and his wife be allowed in, his face just a foot away from the only female guard. The guards are standing firmly and quietly as they get shoved and yelled at, but they’re clearly edging close to their tolerance limit. Jason wonders if this is the kind of chaos Cymbre grew up in; if so, he understands her overlapping fight, flight, fear, and fawn responses a little more. He approaches from behind quietly and stands still for a few seconds as Full Metal takes up a position just behind and to his left.

“A-ten-hut!” Jason’s voice echoes loudly against the building. The man instantly stops what he’s doing and jolts into a straight stance as if by instinct alone. Seems the guard was right about him having military training; Jason tries to push out of his mind all the difficult reminders of himself that come with that confirmation. As the man remembers he’s in civvies and doesn’t have to salute or stand at attention, he relaxes and turns towards Jason with a scowl on his face. Jason takes a step forward and draws on all his leader alpha male qualities and training. He is a high level NCO after all, and deserves the attentive respect of all lower level enlisted members within every branch of the military; plus, any junior officer who cannot respect a senior NCO with more than 20 years of experience is a poor excuse for an officer. Why not use all that ingrained training to his advantage? “Identify yourself, soldier.”

The man briefly appears to flinch as if he’ll stand at attention again, but instead he stares Jason down. “You first. Show some respect for your betters.” The contempt is palpable as he looks Jason down and up.

“Master Chief Petty Officer Hayes of the United States Navy,” Jason says, keeping to the standard rank rather than identifying himself as a special operator. While out of uniform there’s no requirement for a salute no matter who outranks whom, but Jason desperately wants to lord over this guy and crush him under his thumb as he would any other soldier or sailor or airman who dared look at him sideways.

The man quickly changes his posture and his attitude as he responds, “Retired Master Sergeant Rodrick Watters, United States Army National Guard.”

Jason was right; this ass is a lower rank, an E8, and from the guard rather than active military; and by all indications he seems to be Cymbre’s father. Looking Rodrick over, his large protruding belly and hunched posture means that either he’s really let himself go after spending at least a decade in the guard or he was a pencil pusher; based on his attitude and his post-retirement clean shaven look Jason’s assuming the latter. Since Jason’s a good six inches taller than Rodrick, he uses his height to his advantage and stares the older man down; he can feel Full Metal next to him doing the same. Oh how he wishes he was in dress blues with his fruit salad on full display to show who’s the stronger military force and more honorable man. “Now explain to me why you’re causing such a commotion in front of this hospital.” There are a few noises to his side and out the corner of his eye he can see his team holding onto Clay; seems he’s figured out who this couple is.

“My wife and I are trying to get in to see our daughter. Yesterday we demanded they move her to another hospital, as we don’t believe they’re offering her the best care, but instead my wife and I were assaulted and threatened.” He stops and glares at Jason. “Do you have kids?” When Jason snidely nods his head, Rodrick continues. “Then you know a parent would do anything to protect their child from harm. That’s all we’re trying to do.” His face scrunches slightly, but it screams crocodile tears; Jason knows better. “Deena’s health is poor, but she’s here fighting to see our daughter despite it.” Jason glances at the woman, his incredulity and scorn barely masked before returning his derisive glare back to the man. “I’ve called in some favors, since the hospital has officially medically kidnapped our daughter.” Rodrick pauses and turns towards the guards. “It seems they want us to sue them for medical negligence and assault to get our daughter back,” he yells at them.

Jason looks at his team and sees fury building within every one of them, not just Clay. They all see the narcissism underlying the façade of concern. One word from him and the team will have no problem dragging these two useless wastes of space away. Even Full Metal looks ready to do his thing and he wasn’t even there on the yacht. Jason looks back at Deena and Rodrick then pauses to search for any sign that they care even the smallest amount about their daughter. Cymbre’s words suddenly pop into his head. _I wish I had a future. I wish someone could love me. Forget I ever existed; most already did long ago._ If Emma ever wrote something like that it would destroy him, yet Cymbre’s parents are focused on how they’re affected rather than on what’s happened to their daughter. Jason straightens his spine as his face goes ice cold. Didn’t he do something similar upon first learning of Emma’s assault; making it about his perspective? The difference is he wouldn’t have responded by hitting Emma again, while Cymbre’s parents responded to her victimization by hurting her again.

Jason’s voice is scarily calm and deathly quiet as he says to Rodrick, “I know who your daughter is. My team and I are the ones who saved her from dying inside abject hell.” He pauses to let that sink in. “We also know about you and your wife. We know what Cymbre has endured, from you and from those you let hurt her.” He pauses for a quick breath that fails to calm him. When anger starts to rise within Rodrick in response, Full Metal steps around him and takes a position closer to his side. “You and your wife deserve no sympathies and endless consequences.” He waves his team closer. “I’ve seen the lasting effects of what you and everyone else did to her.” Deena has now turned and is staring blankly at Jason, too, along with the security guards who aren’t sure what’s happening. Jason can’t help his voice from slowly getting louder as each reminder angers him more. “As far as my team is concerned, as well as our contacts in the intelligence community, we know you should be ashamed of yourselves and you deserve to be held accountable for your actions today, yesterday, and throughout Cymbre’s whole life.” Deena starts to wail a weak defense, but Jason cuts her off. “No. This is over. Leave this place. Cymbre deserved far better than to have you as her parents.” He takes a step closer to Rodrick, rage ablaze behind his dark eyes as he looks down on the coward of a man standing before him. “If you think calling in favors will get you near your daughter ever again, think twice. Leave now or I’ll ensure that every part of your lives will be investigated so closely that every ounce of respect you wish you’d earned with your rank will disintegrate as every secret you hold dear will be exposed to the world.” Rodrick tenses and suddenly throws a punch towards Jason, but Full Metal catches his fist midair and quickly yanks it behind his back with little effort. Jason doesn’t flinch. When Rodrick opens his mouth Jason adds, “Don’t tempt me.” He can feel the strength of his team standing behind him and the respect of the security guards as they stare at him with their mouths agape. Deena steps closer; she’s a full foot shorter than Jason is and no amount of cries or cussing or physical fight from her is going to budge him, but Brock quickly looms over to silence her.

Jason pulls out his phone and calls Davis as he stares daggers between the couple. “Need you to pull info on Rodrick and Deena Watters for me.” He pauses. “Yes, they’re Cymbre’s parents. They’re outside Georgetown University Hospital right now demanding access to their daughter so they can continue to abuse her memory.” He feels the rest of the team shift behind him as they fan out and stand at parade rest, with Clay on his immediate right ready to do something drastic. “Okay, match that up with what you found for Agent Ellis already and send it to Metro Police. Then let them know to get here and pick these two back up; this time, request they’re held while the cops read through the evidence. I’m sure there’s enough there for at least a few charges to stick.” Jason hangs up and nods towards the guard he had talked to earlier as the team glares down at the couple.

A quick order and the guards handcuff Rodrick and Deena without further incident, even as the couple continues to defend their actions and throw verbal fits. No one who matters is going to listen to their narcissistic lies and defensive excuses ever again. Once they’re under control, the head guard thanks Jason and the team for helping out and calls inside for the doors to be unlocked so the guys can enter.


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure the guys didn't mind the short delay, since it meant they got to stand up against two people who deserved to be talked down to. Bravo protected Cymbre one last time and now they need to lean on each other.
> 
> This is the penultimate chapter, dear readers. Step inside Cymbre's hospital room and pull Bravo close to your hearts. They need your support, too.

Rebecca is waiting for them inside the hospital, having entered through a different set of doors from the parking garage; she’d witnessed much of the encounter. She steps closer to Clay, but one look at the anger written across his face and she silently steps aside to follow behind the team. Once in the ICU they run into Dr. Henderson, who remembers Clay from a few days ago, and the group is allowed to step inside her room with the doctor to discuss her situation.

Cymbre is lying completely still in the bed, her heart and lungs being controlled by machines. She looks completely helpless and hopeless, somehow even more vulnerable than she did when they had saved her on that nightmare yacht. Her already pale skin is now tinted gray with mottled purple lines along her arms from decreased blood flow, and the only indication of life comes from the machines. Rebecca silently steps up next to Clay, her small hand warming his sinewy taut arm as she whispers an apology that she wasn’t able to get help in time. The team stands in silence as the doctor closes the door, turns his sad gaze towards them, and begins to speak.

“I understand that you’ve gotten a little update on her and the unfortunate events late last night. The neurosurgery I performed required screwing two of her vertebrae together. Even with cadaver bone and using a bone growth stimulator to account for the poor slow wound healing from her genetic condition she needed to keep her neck immobile for at least 3 months. At that point she would’ve been evaluated to see if she could wean off the brace and start strengthening her neck muscles again.” He stops and sighs lightly as he briefly looks at her then quickly turns away again. “She had been showing signs of improvement and I had begun to hope she would survive her injuries.” He pauses and clears his throat, showing a hint of empathy for her he hadn’t shown previously; it’s as if her improvement had finally reminded him she wasn’t just a case that he needed to distance himself from due to a poor expected outcome. “After her parents were found in here, when she stopped breathing on her own, we evaluated her and took x-rays. Without a completed police investigation we aren’t certain who or what caused it, but her head was moved so roughly that the bone around the screws shattered and small pieces caused unsurvivable damage to her vagus nerve. Damage to that nerve prevents signals from reaching her internal organs, so there’s just no hope to save her now.” The doctor pauses to let the information sink in before he turns and looks square at Clay. “I hope the government got all the information from her you needed. We’re keeping her body alive to honor her wishes per her advanced directive; if any of her organs can be salvaged they will be donated within the next few hours. Then after an autopsy to determine exact cause of death, samples of various tissues will be harvested and donated for medical researchers and what’s left will be cremated.”

Unlike their last encounter Jason reaches out and shakes the doctor’s hand, his voice rough as he replies, “You did what you could for her, doc.” Arguing about restraints and rough handling can no longer change the outcome. The doctors and nurses had been more interested in controlling her than in controlling access to her; would that have changed if they’d cared to learn anything about her as a person? Then again, if her blog is any indication, when had anyone ever asked what Cymbre wanted rather than forcing their will upon her?

Stepping up closer to the bed Clay asks, “What will happen with her remains?” He swallows hard as he looks down at the empty husk that had once held a fighter, a survivor. Rebecca keeps her distance this time, stepping back in the corner by the door as she watches him wage war against the anger and sadness that’s radiating from him and quickly filling up the room. Clay needs his brothers now even more than he needs her.

“We have no intention of giving them to her parents, of course, while they’re under suspicion of being the cause of her death. Without family to claim them, we don’t know.” Dr. Henderson pauses for a few moments, walks around Clay to the machines to check the readings and adjust some settings, then turns back to the team. “Her advanced directive requested her cremated remains be planted with trees, but didn’t provide contact information for someone willing to do so. Some of the nurses and staff were discussing raising money to honor her wishes. We feel awful about what she’s been through between the kidnapping and all that’s happened here.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Clay quickly interjects. “I want to make sure she gets to rest in peace with honor.”

The doctor looks a little taken aback, followed by a brief sad smile. “I’ll see what I can do to make that happen. Give the nurse your contact information on your way out.” He slowly makes his way to the door, pausing and turning back just before he opens it. “Take a few minutes to say your goodbyes. Soon she’ll be moved into a surgical suite to begin the organ harvesting process.” He silently leaves the room.

Sonny is the first to step up and put a hand on Clay’s shoulder. “Time to let go, Spense.”

Trent is right on Sonny’s heels as he comes closer and briefly touches Cymbre’s hand, wishing her icy fingers would squeeze back as she had on the RHIB. When a few seconds pass with no movement, he turns to face Clay. Quietly he says, “It was a miracle she made it as long as she did. She’ll never be in pain again.” He steps back away from the bed to allow others to come closer to their hurting brother and lost sister.

Brock walks to the other side of the bed and looks down at her. He thinks back to seeing the women who had slowly made their way out of the cabin on the yacht, scared yet remarkably well. He thinks about all the women they saved in Burkina Faso. “Seems so unfair that her sacrifices saved so many strangers only for her own family to…” His voice trails off, knowing that stating it only makes it feel more tragic.

Full Metal is standing next to Rebecca, watching Bravo have their moment of goodbye. He imagines running back down to the front doors and finding her parents again so he can hurt them to match the way his brothers are hurting. What he’s been told about this woman makes him think he would’ve liked to have seen her courage for himself, but witnessing the team this heartbroken over the loss of someone they had saved says there’s so much more about her he hasn’t been told. He hears a small sniffle from Rebecca and awkwardly pats his hand on her shoulder. She didn’t know Cymbre either, and she would been told even less than he has, but the emotions in the room heighten the impact on them, too.

Jason turns and walks over to the window. Looking at her again, seeing the bruise that’s still on her face two weeks later, seeing the aftermath of her parents’ inability to love their daughter, and knowing that too many times he’s been too harsh with his own kids is eating away at his heart. He knows he’d never do to Emma and Mikey anything like what Cymbre’s parents did to her, but how many times did he let them down? How many times did he yell at them only because he was on edge from a mission, his job? How many times, especially since Alana died, did he take his own issues out on them? He knows he wants nothing more than to just bury the memories of this pair of missions in that little box in his belly and pretend it never happened, but do those memories ever truly stay hidden? Backhanding Annika without thinking about it tells him probably not. As if the universe was conspiring against him, his phone rings. Blackburn couldn’t keep him out of the meeting at the Capitol. Jason acknowledges and says they’re at the Hospital in Georgetown; the car can pick him up out front.

Ray steps up next to Jason. He has an idea about what’s going through his best friend’s mind. On his darkest days he’s also wondered if the scars left behind by all he’s seen and done might come out and affect his ability to be the best father he can be to Jameelah and Junior, the best husband to Naima, and the best version of himself for his brothers. A few times he’s failed and had to right himself; when will it all catch up to him? “I know brother. I know,” is all he says. It’s all he needs to say. No words can adequately convey his wish that he could’ve killed Wilner before he stabbed Cymbre or figured out who Annika was before Jason had gotten angry and hit her. Only his faith gives him hope that there’s a reason all of this had to happen, and for that reason alone he’ll stand by Jason’s side even in front of nosy, backseat-driving, Monday-morning-quarterbacking politicians with an agenda.

Clay bends down over Cymbre and whispers in her ear. “We captured or killed all of the people involved in…” He swallows hard against the lump in his throat. “They won’t ever be able to hurt anyone else, ever again.” He stands as he slips his hand around hers and squeezes softly. “Rest in peace, sister. You helped us save countless others. You’ve more than earned your eternal rest.” He carefully places her hand back down, slowly removing one finger at a time as if he has to pry himself from the final touch. Turning away, Clay sees the Bravo symbol he drew is still on the whiteboard. He pushes past Sonny and Trent and wipes his hand across it, smearing the image. The anger he feels towards himself for letting down another person who needed his help, who needed to be saved, is starting to eat him alive. He pushes past Brock, Metal, and Rebecca and storms out into the hallway, his breathing hard and fast. If he can’t save those who need him most, does he deserve to lead those who can?

Rebecca reaches out as he moves past her, but Full Metal lightly grabs her hand and shakes his head. Now’s not the time. “I’ll get the car and meet you downstairs,” she says quietly as the team follows her out the door, each taking one last pause before leaving in silence.

Jason remains in the room for one last moment, finally stepping up to her bedside. “I promise to be a better father to my kids than your parents were to you.” He barely brushes his fingertips against the bruise on her cheek. “Thank you, Cymbre.” The tiny click of the door shutting behind him sounds like a gavel passing her final sentencing.

Clay pauses at the nurse’s station only long enough to write his contact info down before he storms out of the hospital while shaking off his team as they try to get him to slow down. Once outside, he stops and looks around as he takes a few deep breaths. The darkening sky in the distance and the bite of cold in the air feels like the sky itself is mourning the loss alongside him. “This is where her ending began,” he says to himself as he looks at the reflection of the disappearing blue sky in the curved glass of the building. “If only she hadn’t needed to come here.” Rebecca pulls her SUV up and Clay, Sonny, Trent, and Brock get in. On the way back to Andrews they plan to make a pit stop to buy what feels like half a liquor store; sobriety isn’t their friend right now.

Jason watches half of his team drive away without him while waiting for the car to take him to the Capitol. Ray and Full Metal stand with Bravo 1, ready to follow him into battle against meddling politicians who like to spin their actions to suit divisive political narratives. When the car pulls up the three silently crowd inside, determined to say their peace and get out fast.

When Rebecca pulls up to the main gate at Andrews, she grabs Clay’s hand to stop him from getting out. As the back seat empties, she pulls his hand to her chest. “I’m so sorry she didn’t make it.” The tiny shimmer of unshed tears in his crystal blue eyes is almost her undoing. “I’ll be here for you when you’re ready.”

Clay brings her hand up to kiss it. His voice is barely above a whisper as he says, “Thanks. I’ll call you soon.” He squeezes her hand and when a moment later she squeezes back a single tear breaks loose from its confinement and trails down his cheek. She reaches out and gently grabs his face to pull him closer, kissing the tear away before kissing his lips. There are no more words of comfort to say. He turns and exits the SUV then slowly walks towards the gate, his normally confident bravado drowned by the sadness and disappointment in himself.

Sonny knocks on Rebecca’s window before she can pull away. She lowers it so he can lean in. “Thanks for your help today,” he says sheepishly. After Sonny’s napalm freak out at the pre-deployment cookout a few months ago, and the awful things he said to Clay and Rebecca specifically, he’d wanted to apologize to her; but, right now he can’t find the words. “Glad he has you.” A tiny smile tugs at Rebecca’s lips for a moment before fading. “He’ll be back to his old self soon. I’ll stay with him.” Sonny taps the roof of the SUV before walking away with his brothers.

The four members of Bravo find solace in a few beers and the quiet attention of Cerberus while waiting for their sullen and annoyed NCOs to return to the plane. Just as the sun peeks through the thick clouds to crash heavily into the horizon the C17 is wheels up and heading home to Virginia Beach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few days after I began writing this story 4 months ago someone I spent a lot of my 20s with let his friends know that he was about to release a self-recorded EP. On and off during the writing process I listened to those songs when I wasn't writing, but one in particular really stood out and it became the anthem that I played when I needed to get into the right mindset to break through a difficult chapter.
> 
> Out of the Blue by Wally Joseph (of Skywind/Skywynd, Crash Anthem, My Famous Friends, etc): https://youtu.be/5RpILoIjXb4
> 
> Please give it a listen, especially if you plan to go back and re-read parts or all of this story. You might find it'll enhance the experience of certain chapters. This chapter may be one of those.


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may be the end, but goodbyes and memories aren't always forever.

**EPILOGUE**

The flight is only a half hour, but with the head start Clay is a few sheets to the wind before they touch down; once on the ground and off the clock he grabs one of the liquor bottles and heads for his Nova. As each of the team members go their separate ways once more, Sonny does for Clay what Clay has done for him so many times before when the haze of potent alcohol attempts to drown sins and silence; he cares for his brother. Sonny drives while Clay starts pounding the bottle, barely willing to come up for air. Once Clay’s settled in his bed, Sonny pulls out the bottle he kept for himself and dives in as he turns on the tv and spreads out on the couch. He’ll be there in the morning to remind Clay none of this is their fault, but he needs a little forgetting juice tonight, too. After his first mouthful he pulls out his phone and texts Naome, letting her know he’s home for a few days if she’d like her first self-defense lesson. Her quick excited reply reminds him that when the sun rises anew he’s got something better to do than drown his feelings in another bottle.

*****

Trent finds his way to The Bulkhead alone. As much as the team enjoys drowning nightmares together, he’s on a different mission this evening. He finds the waitress from before they left for Africa and pulls her aside; he admits what he saw and asks if there’s anything he can do to help. Kelly tells him she’s recently broken up with a guy who treated her badly and moved halfway across the country in hopes he won’t find her. She’s just started her shift tonight, but the place is still mostly empty so she takes time to talk with Trent in between customers. He finds out her father was in the Army and had died when she was a teenager, which is why she reacted dismayed upon finding out he was a sailor; she remembered her father being kind one minute then harsh the next and was worried Trent would do the same. By the time the bar gets busy she’s given Trent her phone number and he’s offered his support should she find herself in need. Brock and Full Metal eventually join him at the bar for some drinking and camaraderie, and Trent introduces them to Kelly as their new favorite waitress. It doesn’t take long for Kelly to find a comfortable friendship with her now favorite patrons, beer foam volcanoes and all.

*****

When Jason steps foot inside his apartment he finally allows himself to fall apart. All the fears and failures and struggles and stress he’s had for and with his kids have been brought back to the surface because of Cymbre’s parents and the last two weeks. He repeats his vow to Cymbre that he’s going to do better for his kids. He calls up Mikey and asks to spend the weekend with him because he misses hanging out with his son. He then calls Emma and asks her about the case, about school, and about everything she’s willing to tell him. Apologizing for not being there for her often enough, he tells her he hopes she’ll never be afraid to tell him about anything ever again; especially not when she needs his help, support, and love. He can’t replace their mom, but he can be a better father and be there for them more than he has been. Emma reminds him – yet again – she’s fine, she loves him, and she’ll be home for Thanksgiving in less than a month.

*****

The first thing Ray does when he gets home is hug his family close. These past two weeks have been hard on the whole team and Ray needs Naima’s love and support so much right now. He needs the reminder that his kids and wife are safe and will always help him be the best husband, father, and man he can be. It’s the only way he can hope to file away all the memories of all the awful things he’s seen in the last few weeks and not let it eat away at the man he truly is and wants to be. Luckily for him and everyone near her, Naima is an incredible woman and she’ll always be there for him, their kids, and anyone who needs her help. When morning comes Ray’s abundantly grateful he’s there to dress his kids in their Halloween costumes for a night of family shenanigans. Their first stop is Jason’s apartment to show off Jameelah’s costume: Supergirl, inspired by Emma.

*****

Mandy found out on the plane what happened with Cymbre; it’s a punch to the gut after feeling like she’d gotten to know her over the hours spent reading her blog. Rather than drowning her sorrows in a glass of high octane like the boys, she stays behind at DEVGRU going over the information she’d gotten from Annika, again. The more she considers how to approach the problem, the more she doesn’t want Bravo anywhere near the solution. She calls Lisa only to find she believes the same. They immediately start making calls and find out Charlie team is already in Eastern Europe for a month-long deployment; adding another week or two in the region to put together an op for Sacha, Annika’s brother, won’t be a problem. That gives Mandy and Lisa two weeks to pull together whatever intel they can to send to Charlie team’s support staff. When midnight rolls around Lisa heads for her apartment, leaving Mandy alone with her thoughts. Against every intention to drive home, Mandy soon finds herself outside of Jason’s apartment door, knocking.

*****

Over the next few days Blackburn runs interference and ensures Bravo has a few days off. With as badly as a few of them are taking Cymbre’s death, it’s for the best. Fortunately, the world remains calm enough that the team gets their brief reprieve. Eric has watched Bravo fight, fall apart, and fraternize over the years; but these two missions left a few fractures in their hearts. He knows they’ll be back to right quickly, caulking the cracks in whatever ways they can. Until then, he’ll be the shield protecting the tip of the spear.

*****

By the time winter has settled inches deep over Virginia, Bravo is nearly back into their normal routines with just a few changes. Clay was revealed as the person who wrote the letter about Ambassador Marsden and he got kicked out of the STA21 program because of it, just before leaving to start OCS. Bravo closed ranks and fought to keep him on the team, even as Lindell attempted to use Clay as an example of the hammer that comes down on any special operator who speaks outside the military without approval. After losing Cymbre it felt ridiculous to be upset over having to stay with Bravo, his family, so he returned home to them grateful to be kept close. It didn’t take long for Ray to get comfortable in his new role as a warrant officer. After this mission, whenever lawmakers and governmental leaders need a reminder about why battling global trafficking networks is important Ray gets called to speak to them. He always makes sure to remind them that anyone can be a victim, or a perpetrator. Sonny stuck to his word and started training Naome, teaching her self-defense tactics. Turns out Sonny needed Naome as much as she needed him, as he spent less time getting drunk and in trouble once he had something productive to do and someone who looked up to him as a mentor. It’ll be no surprise that when she turns 18 in a few years she’ll decide to join the Navy. Whether she goes to BUD/S or OCS or anything in between, Sonny’s going to be just a phone call away to cheer her on. Jason spent more time with Mikey and Emma, rebuilding the family bonds that were fractured and lost over the years. When he finally retires and starts working with security consultants, he’ll start dragging both his kids and eventually their families on trips around the world whenever possible. Until then, he’s calling them more often and back to surprising them at random times just to keep them on their toes, reminded they’re loved. Cerberus got his much deserved retirement a few months after getting back from Africa and Brock finally figured out that if he spends more time with his new pup, Cynan, around others then women will flock to him. His dating life is now more robust than ever, making Sonny wonder if Brock could be a good wingman after all – or at least during the occasional trip to the dog park. Trent and Kelly became close friends and when her best friend decided to join her in VA beach, Kelly set her and Trent up on a date. Soon after, Kelly started dating a new guy who first had to pass muster with Trent.

The team was gratified when they heard Senator Miller was censured, arrested, and held without bail for his crimes in one of the fastest and least partisan Senate investigations in decades. A new administration prosecutes him for treason and ensures he can never harm the country again. Amber immediately took a plea deal for extended community service. Apparently her ordeal inspired her into changing her life; the news reported she’ll be working for the next few years with a non-profit that helps women escape dangerous relationships and seek justice after being victimized. The Senate was able to determine which defense contractor Miller was working with and pulled their funding, banned them from additional contracts, and the management team responsible was found guilty by the ICC for aiding and abetting war crimes. Charlie team was able to draw Sacha into Eastern Europe and easily captured him. Annika was definitely the more powerful and intelligent of the two, but their long and storied family history has now fallen out of Russia’s favor. They won’t be free to harm anyone ever again. Emma’s attacker and his buddies are having their feet held to the fire by the ADA, but it’ll be another two years before they go to trial. By then they’ll have been long since kicked out of school and had news of their actions splashed across the internet; their lives will never be the same, no matter how lenient of a sentence they attempt to finagle. When Bravo shows up to support Emma during her testimony, the petulant little boys realize they’re better off taking their punishments and disappearing into anonymity rather than challenging Emma’s protectors. The police chief used Emma’s recording to write up a formal reprimand on the cop, but since he doesn’t believe outright firing the bastard could stick he has promised Emma he’ll use his power to ensure the cop will only get the worst assignments until the guy quits. Soon after, an anonymous source leaks the recording to the news and strangely the police chief sees no reason to investigate it; the bastard will never work as a cop again. Cymbre’s parents initially pled not guilty to involuntary manslaughter, but with the historical evidence that Mandy and Lisa provided the DA added voluntary manslaughter and criminal abuse of a vulnerable adult then pushed hard against their manipulations in court. Deena’s DNA and the hand-shaped bruising on Cymbre’s mouth, nose, and face sealed their fate. A 20 month long court battle leads to Deena getting 41 years and Rodrick the same for aiding and abetting. Considering their ages, if they ever get out of jail they’ll be too old to hurt anyone else. Clay was the only person behind the prosecutors in the courtroom to watch the sentencing; the trust Cymbre had placed in him reaffirmed by being her eyes beyond the darkness. Only then can Clay finally wash clean from his memory the sight of bloody tears against steel blue-grey eyes.

None of these consequences can bring Cymbre back, give any of the kidnapped or trafficked women and kids their previous lives back, fully make up for what Emma went through, or prevent other groups from filling in the holes left behind by Annika’s fallen network. Though, Bravo and their family and friends can take small comfort in knowing the world is better with fewer horrible people doing horrible things in it as they watch each person they couldn’t hold to account is slowly taken down.

*****

When Clay got the call to pick up Cymbre’s ashes he renewed his determination to honor her strength. Come springtime and the promise of renewed hope across the landscape, families and friends were there as Bravo planted her ashes with several saplings in Red Wing Park, just a few miles off base, while having a huge barbeque before Bravo’s next deployment. It was a fitting way to say goodbye to the past and reset before enduring another three months away from their lives, families, and friends. Each team member used the opportunity to tell their loved ones about the woman who defied the odds and fought hard to save others, even knowing she couldn’t save herself; all while reminding them that small actions can lead to changed lives and a better world. Emma, Jameelah, and Naome are specifically reminded that they have every right to defend themselves when threats arise; no one is willing to let the young women feel like they have to accept harm or violence or dangers as inevitable the way Cymbre had been forced to. Though, with a tight-knit extended family like Bravo looking out for them, these young women and their brothers are guaranteed to grow up strong, resilient, and always loved.

*****

As the years pass, the members of Bravo team retire or move on in their careers and are replaced one by one, but one lesson sticks with them all: You don’t have to be a perfect physical specimen or trained like a real life superhero to act heroic. They’ve borne witness to how even the smallest acts of courage can create ripples of goodness that spread into the lives of countless others. Those acts of kindness and courage are what change the world for the better more than war ever has.

No one will admit who did it, but eventually the Bravo symbol is carved in each of Cymbre’s trees. Even after every sharp memory of her has faded, her strength will live on for generations as children find comfort in her branches and families picnic and play in her shade. Her life may be forgotten to time, but time cannot forget she lived. No matter how many special operators come and go from the team, the strength of character and the troubled heart seeking solace that defines each of our heroes will always be a reminder that Bravo is a family and this family will always protect each other the way only they can.

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bravo team, their families, Cymbre, and I thank you for going on this journey with us, readers. I hope you took a little time to learn about EDS so you have some understanding that the millions of us living with it are fighting unique battles and could use a little kindness. I hope along the way you also learned something about yourself and how strong you can be, whether you help someone in need or ask someone to help you. Bravo believes you're all worth fighting for.
> 
> Please leave some comments and constructive criticism. What did you like or dislike? What chapters were good or could be improved? How did you feel reading each chapter? What made you laugh or cry or get angry or anything in between? Do you believe I stayed true to the characters or not? Did I make any canonical mistakes? Do you have any questions about any topic in the story that I could answer or provide you more information about? Please help me improve by sharing your thoughts.
> 
> Thanks again for spending your time with me. I appreciate you.


End file.
